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NOW READY! 

IN THE 

SEPTEMBER NUMBER 

OF THE 

|\|euy Yorl^ pasl^ioi) Bazar, 

A NEW STORY, ENTITLED 

“PEINCE CHAEMING.” 

By the author* of ‘‘A Great Mistake/' ^‘Clarissa's " 
Ordeal," “Cherry," etc. 

Every lady should read this exquisite romance. 
The name of the author is a guarantee of the thor- 
oughly high-class character of this novel. 

»»» - 

The New York FASHir>N Bazar for August affords a refreshing spectacle of 
all that is light, cool and charming in summer toilets for the fairer half of 
humanity. Ladies will find all the new and interesting features of the fashions 
of the period beautifully illustrated, both in colored plates and engravings, and 
so well described that home dress making is made entirely practicable and 
attractive to every intelligent needle-woman. As usual, the August Bazar 
abounds in pretty suits for children, and every mother will be grateful for the 
numberless hints and models which the illustrations afford. In the literary 
department of the magazine there is the first half of a new story by the accom- 
plished American author, William Henry Bishop, entitled “ The Pavilion of the 
Sun Dial,” a summer romance of the Shrewsbury River, very suggestive of the 
delights of summer leisure and adventure. There is a new novel commenced, 
entitled ” Love Will Find Out the Way,” which every reader of romance wall 
enjoy. Published by George Munro, 17 to 27 Vandewater Street, New York. — 
Cincinnati Times- Star. 

The New York Fashion Bazar for July well merits attention for its profu- 
sion of charming summer toilets for ladies, and its pretty summer suits for 
children of all ages. One page gives a complete infant’s wardrobe. In addition 
to the numerous illustrations, it has a delightful novelette by Mrs. Harriet Pres- 
cott Spofford, an admirable paper on the ” Art of Housekeeping,” ikjteresting 
editorial and literary miscellany, and the continuation of three capital serial 
novels. New York: 17 to 27 Vandewater Street.~2%e Palladium., New Haven, 
Conn. 

The New York Fashion Bazar for July is before us. It is full of good 
things for the fair sex. One of the continued stories has come to a close in this 
number, and the others continue in interest. This issue has all the midsummer 
fashions. Published by George Munro, 17 to 27 Vandewater Street, New York. 
Worcester Went Chronicle., Athol, Mass. 


THE NEW YORK FASHION BAZAR Is tor sale by all newsdealers. It will also 
be sent, postage prepaid, for 25 cents per single copy. The subscription price Is 
^00 per year. Address 

GEORGE MUNRO, Mnnro’s Publishing House, 

P. O* Box* 3751, 17 to U7 Vandewater Street, New York* 


MTTNEO'S EtrSLICATIOKS. 


The New fork Fashion Bazar Book of the Toilet 


PRICE 25 CENTS. 


This is a little book which we can recommend to every lady for the preserva- 
tion and increase of Health and Beauty. It contains full directions for all the 
arts and mysteries of personal decoration, and for increasing the natural 
graces of form and expression. All the little affections of the skin, hair, eyes 
and body that detract from appearance and happiness are madp the subjects 
of precise and excellent recipes. Ladies are instructed how to reduce their 
weight without injury to health and without producing pallor and weakness. 
Nothing necessary to a complete toilet book of recipes and valuable advice and 
information has been overlooked in the compilation of this volume. 


THE NEW YORK FASHION BAZAR BOOK OF THE TOILET is sold 
by all newsdealers. It will be sent to any address, postpaid, on receipt ot 
price, 25 cents, by the publisher. Address 

GEORGE MUNRO, 

MUNRO’S PUBLISHING HOUSE, 
P«OeBoxS751* 17 to 27 Vandewater Street* New York* 


THE NEW YORK FASHION BAZAR 

Model Lener-Writer and Lover's Oracle, 


PRICE 25 CENTS. 


A COMPLETE GUIDE FOR BOTH LADIES AND GENTLEMEN IN 
ELEGANT AND FASHIONABLE LETTER-WRITING. 

CONTAINING 

Perfect Examples of Every Form of Correspondence, Business Letters, Love 
Letters. Letters to Relatives and Friends, Wedding and Reception Cards, 
Invitations to Entertainments. Letters Accepting and Declining Invi- 
tations, Letters of Introduction and Recommendation. Letters of 
Condolence and Duty, Widows’ and Widowers’ Letters, Love 
Letters for All Occasions, Proposals of Marriage. Letters 
Between Betrothed Lovers, Letters of a Young Girl to 
Her Sweetheart, Correspondence Relating to House- 
hold Management, Letters Accompanying Gifts. 


Every form of letter used in affairs of the heart will be found in this little 
book. It contains simple and full directions for writing a good letter on all 
occasions. The latest forms used in the best society have been carefully fol- 
lowed. It is an excellent menual of reference for all forms of engraved cards 
and invitations. 


For sale by all Newsdealers, or sent to atly, address on receipt of 25 centSt 
postage prepaid, by the publisher. Address 

GEORGE MUNRO, Munro’s Publishing House, 

(P. (X Box 8751.) 17 to 27 Tandewater Street* New TToxlc. 


OUR NEW MISTRESS; 

OR, 


CHANGES AT BEOOKIIELD EAEL. 


BY 

CHARLOTTE M. YONGE. 


NEW YORK: 

GEORGE MUNRO, PUBLISHER, 

17 TO 27 Vandewatbr Street. 

\ ‘ V 


CHARLOTTE M. YONGE’S WORKS 

CONTAINED IN THE SEASIDE LIBRARY (POCKET EDITION): 

NO. PRICE. 

247 The Armourer’s Prentices 10 

275 The Three Brides 10 

535 Henrietta’s Wish; or, Domineering .... 10 

563 The Two Sides of the Shield 20 

640 Nuttie’s Father 20 

665 The Dove in the Eagle’s Nest 20 

666 My Young Alcides. A Faded Photograph . . 20 

739 The Caged Lion 20 

742 Love and Life 20 

783 Chantry House 20 

790 The Chaplet of Pearls; or, The White and Black Ri- 

haumont. First half 20 

790 The Chaplet of Pearls; or. The White and Black Ri- 

baumont. Second half 20 

800 Hopes and Fears; or. Scenes from the Life of a Spinster. 

First half . 20 

800 Hopes and Fears; or. Scenes from the Life of a Spinster. 

Second half 20 

887 A Modern Telemachus 20 

1024 Under the Storm; or, Steadfast’s Charge . . .20 

1133 Our New Mistress; or. Changes at Brookfield Earl . 20 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 


CHAPTEE L 

DEAK OLD GOVEKNESS. 

From Bertha HewiWs dictation to Miss Emily, one of the 
ladies at St, Mary’s Convalescent Home, 

I SHOULD like every one to understand how it all hap- 
pened, and the ladies say it will ease my mind to tell it all 
out; and I am sure I have plenty of time while I am laid 
up here and my poor eyes will not let me study: and as to 
knitting, it only makes me think the more. 

I shall never forget that Friday evening when we three 
pupil-teachers, Frances Best and Eose Shepherd and my- 
self, had our first sight of Miss Martin getting out of the 
fiy with her lame sister, while we crowded our heads at 
governess Betsy ^s window to' see what she was like; and 
Frances said, Such a little slip of a thing and I said. 

Carroty, too! what nonsense to put her over us!^^ And 
then Frances said, I think so indeed! I could twirl her 
round like a humming-top!^^ And governess Betsy looked 
up from her rasher and said, Don^t be too sure; them 
carrots has tempers !^^ For governess Betsy, as we called 
her, never was particular about grammar — nor, for that 
matter, were we; though we had learned it all, and could 


6 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 


analyze sentences, and write it all rightly enough, we never 
troubled ourselves to speak differently from our old ways. 
Indeed, we should have been pretty well laughed at at 
home for pretending to talk like ladies. 

I see, though, I ought to tell more from the beginning, 
or the ladies will not understand it. Brookfield Earl is my 
home; it is the prettiest place! I shall never care for all 
these rocks and cliffs and sea as I do for our nice river, 
gliding away under the shade of the trees, and with the 
tall reeds and yellow fiags and long purples and dear little 
blue forget-me-nots on the banks, and the park stretching 
up behind full of hawthorns that look like snow when the 
blossoms are out, and lots of cowslips below. Oh, dear! I 
wonder when I shall see it all again? 

My father is one of the keepers to my lord, and we have 
a lodge close to the bridge, because he looks after the fish- 
ing as well. And very good fishing it is. You may see 
one fat cunning old trout that nobody has ever been able 
to catch lying in the deep pool by the bridge. Father has 
grown quite fond of it; I don’t know what he would do if 
any one caught that trout. He says it has grown so sharp 
that it knows every fly the gentlemen can bring, and 
laughs at them. 

I can scarcely remember the old Lord Brookfield, but I 
think he was a white-headed old gentleman who used to go 
out shooting on the little rough pony that runs about in 
the park now. When he died her ladyship stayed on, and 
lived very quietly with her daughters till they all married 
except Lady Mary, who was always such a one for schools 
and poor people. She taught a class on Sundays, and used 


OtJB KEW MISTRESS. 


7 


to go down to the cottages and read to the old women; so 
that between her and the Miss Freewards, who were the 
former clergyman's daughters, our vicar, Mr. Hardwicke, 
didn't seem to have need for a wife to attend to the poor 
folks and the clubs. 

On the other side of the river is the main part of the old 
village, with the schools and the church — a real dear old 
church, all over ivy. They say this one is a very grand 
one that people come to see from all parts, but I am sure 
I shall not care for it half so much as our own, when I am 
able to get there. 

We all went to the schools, though my mother used to 
say we might have looked higher, but they were her lady- 
ship's schools. She took a great interest in them, and 
they have always been very superior. My eldest sister is 
a lady's-maid, and the next is a mantle-woman at a first- 
rate draper's, and my brothers are all in good situations; 
but I am the youngest by a good bit, and father and 
mother were quite willing to keep me at home, and oblige 
Mrs. Pearson by letting me become a pupil-teacher. 

That was not till after the changes had begun. First, 
her old ladyship died, and when Lady Mary was gone to 
look after a sick old aunt there was no one at the Park to 
care about the schools as they had done. Then his lord- 
ship sold Euination " to the pottery people. It was 
called the Ruination" because it is nasty stiff clay that 
nothing will grow on; but Mr. Drake found it would make 
pots and pans and all those things, so that a great pottery 
grew up there close to the station, and numbers of houses 
were built, and great tall chimneys. Luckily it is a mile 


8 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 


off, and there is all Huckster's Copse between, so that we 
do not see it, and all the children have to come to school 
at Brookfield. Such a rough lot! picked up from all parts, 
and terrible poachers some of the set. 

We always had two schools, boys^ and girls\ The old 
lord built them, and they are so pretty! with gable ends, 
and eaves projecting, and timbered fronts, and deep 
porches and windows in a honeycomb, pattern of glass, and 
tall red chimneys in different patterns of fancy bricks, 
scaly and twisty-twirly; and there is a rose all over ours, 
and over the boys^ a Virginian creeper that makes it such 
a beautiful color in autumn. Dear Mrs. Pearson had got 
her certificate as an .acting teacher, but governess Betsy — 
or Mrs. Bolton, as I ought to call her — never had one. 
She was Mrs. Pearson^s daughter, and was her pupil- 
teacher, but had not got her Queen^s scholarship, and be- 
fore she could sit again she- married poor Jem Bolton, one 
of our under-keepers; but in less than three years he was 
shot dead by a sad accident, by one of the young gentlemen 
visitors, who was so heedless with his gun that father al- 
ways said he would be the death of somebody. 

Poor gentleman, they say he never went out with a gun 
again, and he did handsomely by Betsy and her two little 
children; but she has laid the money up in the bank for 
the little ones, and is gone back to teaching. The vicar, 
the Eev. Charles Hardwicke, was glad enough to have her, 
for with all these strangers pouring in they had had to 
build a big new room on to each of the schools. Ours has 
a class-room besides; and it looks all new, and is not half 
so pretty as it used to be. They made our old school- 


OUE KEW MISTEESS. 


9 


room into an infant room under Mrs. Bolton, and Mrs. 
Pearson went on in the large room, with first Frances and 
then me to work under her, and Kose with Mrs. Bolton. 

That was after the inspection, when the inspector found 
ever so much fault, and there only passed sixty-five per 
cent., and almost all of them failed in arithmetic; and in 
the infant school, poor Mrs. Bolton was so flurried in her 
object lesson, because the gentleman made her give one 
upon a table/ ^ when she had prepared a dog,^"" that 
she made the children say the table was often spotted, had 
two eyes, claws, and was very faithful to follow its master 
wherever he went. The gentlemen, and even the vicar, 
did laugh enough to put anybody out then, and they said 
something to one another about clever tables and spirits 
that hurt poor governess Betsy very much, because she 
could not make out what they meant. 

As to the children not passing, how should they when 
many of the Euination set did not come to school three 
days in the week, and some of our own were not much 
better since Lady Mary had gone away.^ After that they 
settled that Mrs. Pearson should have more help; and, 
though I had left school a year before, they asked for me 
to come back and be apprenticed as pupil-teacher. Prances 
Best had been one for half a year before. She is an orphan 
of some former servants whom her ladyship had been 
interested about, and had been boardod with Mrs. Pearson 
ever since she can remember, so as to be like another child 
of her own. Pose is daughter to Mr. Shepherd, the car- 
penter, and had been kept on as monitor because nobody 
can get the inTants to be so good as she can; so she was 


10 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 


apprenticed too, though she is a dear little round, fat 
thing, who never liked study much; but she is very fond 
of little children, and her mother is quite willing to keep 
her on at home. 

My father always says it was the worry of those children 
from Euination that was the death of dear old Governess. 
At any rate, she had a stroke one evening just before the 
summer holidays, when she had come in from school, and 
never spoke again, but died before the week was out. If 
I live to be a hundred I shall never forget her fun- 
eral. 

We were all there of course, with wreaths and crosses of 
flowers; and many grown-up persons, too, for she had 
been mistress thirty-two years; all in mourning, and all 
the choir there; and when the vicar gave out, Laborer, 
rest, thy work is done,^^ one could hardly hear for the 
sobbing and crying, only luckily the boys did not feel it so 
much, and could sing out loud enough; and, as the vicar 
said in his sermon on Sunday (the text of it was, Her 
own works do praise her in the gates ’^), she had done a 
great deal for the place, and we might well be grateful to 
her, for she was a real, right-down religious woman as ever 
lived, and cared for nothing so much as making people 
good. When one looks round and counts up, almost all 
the best mothers in the parish are her old scholars; and, 
though I was a very little girl, I shall always remember 
how she talked to me and made me really sorry that time 
when I had been eating sweets in church, and told a story 
about it. I never, that I know of, told a falsehood again, 
though I have not. always been as good as she would have 


OUB NEW MISTBESS. 


11 


made me; and partly, of late because I did so detest any 
one who came in her stead and changed her ways. 

We all thought Mrs. Bolton would have been mistress, 
and so no doubt she would have been if her ladyship had 
been there, and there had been none of that rough lot at 
Kuination. She says she would not have taken it; the in- 
spection days and the time-table are more than she can 
bear; but she was hurt never to have it even offered to 
her, but to be left to go on with the infants; and most of 
us belonging to the place felt just the same, and that her 
ladyship would have done her justice. I heard that Mrs. 
Shepherd did speak out her mind to Mr. Hardwicke; and 
he answered, Yes, Mrs. Shepherd, but we have to think 
of justice to the children, too. 

Then we heard that a stranger was coming, a Miss 
Martin, who had come out very high up in the list at 
Fishponds Training College. The vicar had said at first 
that most likely the new mistress might be glad to lodge 
and board with Mrs. Bolton, but then it turned out that 
she had a sister who would live with her, and thus she 
wanted a house to herself. They wbre daughters to an 
upholsterer^s foreman, we heard. 

Mrs. Bolton lives in the rooms belonging to the school 
and the managers would not turn her out; and, after some 
contriving, it was arranged that Miss Martin should have 
the cottage at the corner of the lane leading to our bridge, 
nearly opposite to the schools. It is a little bit of a place 
with only two rooms, and a back kitchen like a lean-to; 
but Mr. Shepherd was sent to repair it and board the fioor, 
and furniture was sent in, much better and more stylish. 


12 


OUR KEW MISTRESS. 


governess Betsy said, than ever had been got for her 
mother. 

And there she was, getting ever so many boxes and par- 
cels out of the fly. Fly, indeed said governess Betsy; 

a spring cart was good enough for me. Only half a mile 
from the station, too. 

Presently she began to wonder whether one of us ought 
not to run across and see whether they wanted anything, 
though we knew that the vicar^s housekeeper had been 
down to see that the Are was lighted, and the kettle and 
things arranged in readiness. 

Mrs. Bolton said she could not go, as she should burst 
out crying in her face; and Frances could not bear the 
thought of her, and Eose was shy; so, as I rather wanted 
to see what she was like, I said I would go on my way 
home. 

The door was fastened inside, and I knocked twice be- 
fore it was opened, only a little way; and I said, Please, 
Miss Martin, I am pupil-teacher, and I came to see if I 
could do anything for you. 

Then she thanked me and said she hoped we should be 
good friends, but she did not want anything that evening; it 
was all very nice. She did not ask me in nor open the door 
wide enough for me to see in, but wished me good-night, 
and shut herself up as if she wanted to get rid of me. 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 


13 


CHAPTER II. 

THE NEW-COMER. 

No one saw anything of Miss Martin all Saturday, ex- 
cept that she went to the shops and bought some bread 
and other things, and asked how to get her meat and milk. 

Mrs. Bryce, the butcher^s wife, said she was a pleasant- 
spoken young person, and she thought would he a great 
improvement; but Mrs. Bryce is a new-comer, Mr. Bryce ^s 
second wife, and had no feeling for Brookfield folk. In- 
deed, she had hurt dear old Mrs. Pearson very much by 
saying Edith and Gertrude learned nothing but vulgar 
ways, and she had talked of sending them to school at 
Overbury. We had no notion of a stranger like her talk- 
ing of our wanting improvement here at Brookfield Earl! 

We went more by what Susan Elcock, at the post-ofifice, 
said: that Miss Martin was civil enough, but seemed stiff- 
ish and stuck up, and as if she meant to keep herself to 
herself; for when Susan offered to go and see the one at 
home, who would be lonely all day. Miss Martin thanked 
her and said her sister was quite an invalid and not equal 
to visitors. 

That was a change from motherly governess, to whom 
everybody was always stepping in after school hours with 
every bit of news, as of course she had known them all 
from babies, and cared as if they were her own, often sit- 
ting up at night with any one who was ill; and oh! how 
sleepy she used to be at school after it! so that once she 
told Janie Jones that nine times seven made the capital of 


14 


OUE JTEW MISTEESS. 


France, and another time she said that Galilee was half 
way to Overbury. And when she nodded over the needle- 
work the Euination lot did make a row! But then we 
knew why she was tired, and loved her the better for it. 

Mr. Hardwicke called in to see her that day; but I do 
not think any one else was let in except Mr. Shepherd, 
who came to fix some things; and he said that they were 
both nice, tidy, handy young women enough, quite the 
ladies; and the lame one — they called her Amy and the 
other Jessie — would be very piretty if she did not look so 
sickly, and was not so lame and crooked. 

Think of that!^^ said Eose, when she told us, almost 
as if she thought it a shame in her father to have a word 
to say for them. ITl never say she is pretty! I^m glad 
I^m not to be under her!^^ 

Sunday-school was uncommonly full. Every one want- 
ed to see Miss Martin, and after all she was not there; but 
school was just as usual, with the Sunday teachers who 
helped while the Miss Freewards were away. Governess 
Betsy taught the little ones, and sat with us in church. 

We saw Miss Martin come into church all alone, all in 
black silk, but with a hat with a bunch of blue corn-flow- 
ers, and a blue handkerchief to match. 

No doubt it was not right to look at her instead of 
minding the service, but I must confess that almost all of 
us did — except, perhaps, Frances, who never does take her 
eyes off from where they ought to be. Mrs. Bolton had to 
poke some of them for staring and whispering; indeed, 
Fanny Morgan was almost crjing, and I £eard her mutter, 

I never will call her governess.’^ Nor 1/^ said Susan 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 15 

Kemp; shall call her — I think it was going to be 

Carrots/^ but just then Mrs. Bolton gave her a great 
frown and shake of the head^ and she held her tongue. 

After all it was not real carrots, not rough, red 
hair like Tommy Eooney^s; it was more what is called 
sandy. I wonder whether the golden hair they talk of in 
books is very different? for this was in a yellow plait that 
shone in the sun just like gold; and her eyelashes and eye- 
brows were quite as light. It was a thin face with some 
freckles and very light eyes, and very little color in gen- 
eral; and she looked quite a girl, so slim, and not so tall as 
either Frances or myself. 

Everybody came to school on Monday morning except 
the girls that had passed the fourth standard. Of them 
only Annie Knowles and Jane Harris came, because the 
mother of Annie is very particular, and said she wouldnT 
have no nonsense; and Janets father is Mr. Hardwicke^s 
gardener. 

But the other mothers said either that they did 
not like changes, or that they would not have their big 
girls taught by a chit of a maid like that; though, as had 
been put into the Parish Magazine, she had been two 
years from her training college, and had an excellent 
parchment and report from the place she had left. 

The vicar came in and said something about all being 
good with her, and then read prayers and took the first 
class for their lesson on the catechism, while she heard the 
others all together. Then she called over the names; hut 
it was not so very easy, for the registers had got into a 
muddle, and there was no knowing who had left school 


16 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 

and who was only absent, and Mrs. Bolton had to be 
fetched from the infant school to explain. 

All that day Miss Martin let things go on just as usual, 
taking the first class, and when they were writing copies 
the second, and the third while they did their sums. But, 
after all — ^you would never have thought it! it was me — 
yes, me, Bertha Hewitt — who was the very first person she 
thought fit to find fault with. 

It was this way: I was thinking she should see how well 
I had my class in hand when I saw that tiresome little 
Bella Brown writing on her neighbor’s cheek with her pen 
instead of in her copy-book. So I gave her a little tap, 
and what must she do but begin to cry! What is that?” 
said Miss Martin. 

She hit me,” says the horrid little thing.' 

She was inking Lucy Grove’s face,” says I. 

Come out here,” says Miss Martin, and sets her down 
to go on with her copy at the mistress’s desk as sulky as 
you please. 

Well, at dinner-time, when all the children had gone 
out, making the noise they always did, poor things, and 
tumbling over one another to get their hats and dinner- 
bags, Miss Martin stopped me and said, I must ask you 
to remember that I allow no blows from pupil-teachers. 
If a child is in fault speak to me, but do not strike her. ” 
She is a very naughty child. Miss Martin,” I said; 

she is always after some mischief — ” 

That is not the question,” she said; I dare say she 
deserved it, but it is my rule that children should never be 
struck by their teachers. ” 


OUB NEW MISTKESS. 


17 


Then Frances spoke up for me. Indeed, Miss Martin, 
governess always used to say a short stripe at once and bear 
no malice was the best way. If you keep them in, the 
mothers of them, down at Euination, come up after them 
and run on shameful. 

Shamefully, I suppose you mean?^^ she said. Let 
that be as it may, I am not going to allow either of you to 
strike the children. 

What Frances Best says is quite true. Miss Martin,^"" 
said governess Betsy, standing in the door-way in her 
widow^s cap, with the strings flying out behind, and little 
Jemmy clinging on to her apron. If you mean that 
them Euination children is never to be beat, they will just 
terrify you out of your life.^^ 

I did not say that there was to be no corporal punish- 
ment, Mrs. Bolton, but that it should only be inflicted by 
the head teacher. 

^^Well, youTl have enough to do, said Mrs. Bolton, 
shrugging up her shoulders; and then in her good-natured 
wa;^ she asked the Miss Martins to tea, which we knew was 
a great effort to her, for it was very hard, as she said to 
Frances, to see that little yellow, sharp-nosed thing in her 
own good mother^s place. (Just like Mrs. Morgan^s lean, 
sandy cat in the place of the vicar ^s beautiful, sleek tabby 
Persian!) ^nd after all Miss Martin would not come; she 
said her sister was not able to go out, and she must stay 
with her. 

Well, another time when she is better, said Mrs. Bol- 
ton, rather hurt, for she had bought some tea-cakes, and 
she sent Francie and Eose to run after me to say I must 


18 


OUK NEW MISTKESS. 


come and help eat them up when our lessons after school 
were over. 

We always used to do our lessons in governesses little 
parlor, and we thought Miss Martin would have had us to 
her house, but she did not. She had us always in the 
class-room, all stuffy after school, and with all the children 
who did not go home to dinner making noises in the school 
or play-ground. 

But, oh, dear! after* that one first day there never was 
any one so particular. It came out the very next day, 
when she made all the classes hang up their hats and din- 
ner-bags in order, and told off one girl to give them out to 
each class as they sat; and after they had sung their grace 
they all had to march out, and she taught them in time to 
sing as they went stumping along. 

“ Bacon and potatoes, bacon and potatoes. 

Hissing in the pan,’" 

was the favorite, whether there was any bacon or not. 

Frances was the next who caught it! Miss Martin told 
her she could not expect her class to attend if she sat with 
a round back, and her ankles twisted; just as if that had 
anything to do with it! In fact. Miss Martin said she her- 
self found it the best way to stand; it gave so much more 
command over the children. So it might for a bit of a 
thing like her. But she did not order us to do it always. 
And I will say for her she never reproved us before the 
children; she always waited till they were gone and we 
were at our lessons, which Rose did also with us, for Mrs. 
Bolton could not undertake decimals and physical geogra- 


OtJE KEW MISTRESS. 


19 


phy, and all that we have to do. We wished she could, 
dear good creature, for by the very third day Miss Martin 
had told us we knew nothing of the principles of arithme- 
tic, and that we only knew our history by the dates, just 
like parrots; and she asked us questions that were such a 
worry that we longed for the good old times when dear 
governess thought it quite enough if we said off our events 
and dates, and countries, chief towns, and productions, 
and got the answers to our sums. 

At least Frances was worried, and hated the questions; I 
did not mind them so much, and they made things some 
times rather interesting, if such dull matters could be in- 
teresting. But just fancy, we were waiting for Miss Mar- 
tin while she went across to fetch something, and I was 
reading the other two a lovely story called ‘"Bootless’s 
Baby,^^ that I had bought at the station; and says she, 
“I can^t have books like that brought to school. I 
spoke up and said there was no harm in it; I could tell her 
of those who said so. 

“ I did not say there was, Bertha, she said, “ hut I am 
quite sure that if you read only story-books you will spoil 
your taste for better things with some sense in them. I 
saw some such nice books in the lending library. Now 
if you were to get one of those travels out, you would soon 
come to enter into your geography, instead of its being 
only names. 

Wanting us to read stupid, improving books out of 
school! Wasn^t that too bad of any one? 


20 


OUB NEW MISTEESS. 


CHAPTEE III. 

NEW DISCIPLINE. 

We were curious to see what would come of it with the 
children if they were never to he hit, but somehow that 
first week they were all uncommonly good. Miss Martin 
was something so new and strange that they did not know 
what to make of her, any more than if she had been some 
strange animal turned in among them; and besides, her 
eyes seemed to be everywhere, even while she was teaching 
her own class. 

Nothing happened that could not be settled by making a 
little one stand ten minutes in a corner with a pinafore 
over her head. And as to quietness, father s^id he used 
to hear the school a quarter of a mile off, but now, as 
he passed by the play-ground, it was all so still that he 
stopped to listen and find out whether anything was going 
on, or whether we were not dismissed, and then he just 
heard one voice now and then. 

I hear the inspector has put down the discipline of our 
school ^ Admirable. ^ It was about that stillness that the 
first breeze came. Miss Martin was determined to break 
the children of doing their sums and learning their lessons 
out loud. Certainly it did make a noise when everybody 
was counting at once on her fingers — one, two, three, four 
— or saying over the line of the multiplication table she 
wanted; but we had been used to the hum all our lives, 
and minded it no more than Bessy Stokes minds the roar 


OUK KEW MISTRESS. 


21 


of the engine. Miss Martin took the classes herself when 
they were working, each in turn, and showed them how to 
manage without, and she did not make it quite a rule till 
she had seen that they could all get a sum done without. 

Then she desired Frances and me always to check a child 
who began even in a whisper. I caught them up directly; 
I wasnT going to give her a chance to find fault with me 
again; and my class soon got out of the habit, though it is 
the third; and Frances has the second, but she thought it 
so very unkind that she had not the heart to do it; besides 
that, she was the more set against changing the old plans 
because Mrs. Pearson had been such a mother to her, and 
she was always going over the old times with governess 
Betsy in the evening. 

So she would not always hear when any of hers were 
humming over their counting on their cheeks, with a pat 
upon the nose, or a dig into the cheek, when they came to 
the right number; and so Miss Martin pounced down on 
whoever was doing it; but when the children saw that 
teacher Francie was on their side, they were less ready to 
give in. 

At last Miss Martin made Louisa Lamb come out and sit 
by her, so as to see that she did not count out loud (know- 
ing very well that she could do without). But then Louisa 
would not try at all, and only made white blots on the cor- 
ner of her slate with her pencil, though Miss Martin told 
her she should not go home till the sum was done. It was 
only compound multiplication by six, and she could have 
done it in ten minutes if she had chosen; but she came 
from Euination, and she knew well what would happen. 


22 


OUR KEW MISTRESS. 


and so did we^ and we watched. For the saying was that 
Mrs. Lamb should have been Mrs. Lion, and we had by no 
means forgotten how she had gone on at dear old govern- 
ess that time when Louie was punished for telling a story. ^ 
Governess Betsy always said it had helped to bring on the 
stroke. 

And sure enough, just as we had finished the tidying 
and putting away the work, and while we looked over our 
poetry, and Miss Martin had begun with Louie, Come 
now, you know what six threes are,^^ and Louie was giving 
in enough to answer, there was a great bounce at the door, 
and Mrs. Lamb, with her hair sticking out under her boy^s 
old straw hat, came in, calling out, IVe come for my 
maid.^^ 

Miss Martin went out into the entry to her as quiet as 
possible. She shall come as soon as she has finished her 
sum.^^ 

I wants her now. 

She will have finished in ten minutes, or less if she will 
take pains. Will you sit down and wait?^^ says Miss Mar- 
tin, as quiet-voiced and civil as possible, but not a bit as if 
she meant to give way. 

Then we heard Mrs. Lamb^s voice beginning to rage and 
storm in a way that was too vulgar for me to set down 
here; but then there was Miss Martinis quiet, steady an- 
swer: I think you forget yourself, Mrs. Lamb.-^^ 

If it had been her ladyship or Lady Mary, she could not 
have said it in a calmer, more dignified way, and it quite 
daunted the woman. She began to mutter so that we 
could not hear what she said, Miss Martin only answering 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 


23 


cheerfully, I am sure you can not wish her not to get on, 
and to fall behind the others. If you will sit down a few 
minutes and listen,’ you will hear how nicely she can do her 
work when she tries. 

I t was like a lamb that she came in at last, and then 
Miss Martin told Louie to show her mother how well she 
could do her sum, and then she should go home. We 
thought she would have begun to roar for her mother to 
hear, but I believe she wanted as much as we did to hear 
what was going on, and so kept still; and when Miss Mar- 
tin went back to six threes, she really did answer eighteen, 
and then how many farthings make a penny — fours in 
eighteen, and so on, as if she was quite proud to show her 
mother how much she knew; and at last Mrs. Lamb went 
off with her, really pleased to see she was so clever, for I 
don^t think Mrs. Lamb could have done a sum herself to 
save her life, and she thought it very fine, though Louie 
was only in the third standard at ten years old. 

I was very glad that the lion had been tamed, instead of 
raging about for half an hour till the vicar came upon her 
and frightened her with his sharp words; but I think 
Francie was a little sore and jealous that Miss Martin could 
do so easily what dear old governess could not do at all. 

For you see that while Mrs. Pearson was a dear friend to 
all our own Brookfield people she was quite cowed when 
those dreadful Kuination women came down upon her, and it 
was all the worse because she was so anxious to do her 
duty, and so grieved at being overcome. 

I believe only one more mother ever tried fiying out at 
Miss Martin, and that she did not get her own way any 


24 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 


more than Mrs. Lamb. Mrs. Bryce told some one it was 
because the new mistress was a superior style of person^ 
and that hurt poor governess Betsy more than anything. 

It was a wonder to see how quiet the school was, and 
how regularly the children came, even the Euination lot. 
When the register was called over, everybody answered, 
and the week^s pages looked like checker work, instead of 
being spotted all over with little a^s. She did make the 
lessons interesting, so the first class said, and they grew 
fonder of school than ever they had been before; and the 
younger classes were glad when she took them, as she 
always did in turn while the older ones were about copies 
or arithmetic. She was dreadfully particular, and would 
not pass the tiniest mistake, nor the letter h; but the chil- 
dren did not mind that as much as we did, for when she 
found a bad bit of needlework she always seemed to think 
us accountable for it, and we had to see it picked out and 
put in again, or if the child was cross or cried she would 
see to it herself. She never said much to us, only looked, 
and that was worse; and somehow, more by looking than 
speaking, she got the naughtiest ones to come ever so much 
cleaner and tidier. 

Our own Brookfield people always did send their chil- 
dren nice and neat, as my lady liked to see them, and Mrs. 
Pearson had tried to get the new-comers to be the same; 
but they seemed to think it a fine thing to be independent, 
and so the children came in dreadful pinafores, all stains 
and grease, and ragged frocks, and with holes, and oh! 
such heads of hair! How they used to vex dear old gov- 
erness! but she only got impertinence if she tried to mend 


OrR NEW MISTRESS. 


25 


matters. Once or twice I fancy Miss Martin did, but in 
spite of that the children themselves began to get the wish 
to look respectable; and, as mostly their fathers had better 
wages than the Brookfield people, they could make their 
mothers manage it for them, and now the children look so 
neat that it is a pleasure to see them. I heard a lady re- 
mark on it the very last time I was in the school. 

There was no doubt that the children got on well, and 
were eager about their work and places, and cared to come 
to school. Nor was there near so much little foolish 
naughtiness, such as being idle, or teasing one another, or 
romping and rioting in the playground. Miss Martin used 
to go out herself in the recess in the middle of school-time 
and play with them, and teach them new games, so that 
she prevented all rudeness, and she would make our Brook- 
field children let the Euination ones into their games, as 
they never used to do. 

I remember governess Betsy standing looking over the 
gate, and saying, "'Quite a girl!"" but the children liked 
it, and grew very fond of Miss Martin, and came and told 
her things, and brought her fiowers and nuts, and she was 
very kind if any one was poorly or got hurt. 

Yes, the children did like her, and I am sure the vicar 
did; and we pupil-teachers enjoyed our lessons after the 
first, and felt ourselves to be getting on better than ever 
we had done before. But it was her teaching and her 
management more than herself that we liked. 

Partly I think it was governess Betsy, who would hardly 
have liked any one to come after her mother, and who was 
really hurt to hear people say that the school was improved 


26 


OTJH KEW MISTRESS. 


by all these new-fangled ways^ which she hated. Miss 
Martin once offered to lend her a book about the kinder- 
garten, and to teach Eose some of the exercises and songs. 
Oh, dear! wasnH she angry? though of course she was 
civil enough to Miss Martin, and said Thank you,^^ but 
that she didn’t want to make no change, not unless the 
vicar and Lady Mary wished it. 

At home, though, she had enough to say about the up- 
pishness of these young things that had been to them fine 
colleges, and thought they knew better than them as were 
mothers, and had been teaching long before they were born 
— which Mrs. Bolton could hardly have been, for Miss Mar- 
tin was twenty-two, and she was not more than thirty, 
without counting the two years she was with her husband. 

As to their gifts, and straws, and blocks, and exercises, 
and songs, they were all, to hear governess Betsy, mere 
stuff and nonsense, just wasting the children’s time, and 
saving one’s self trouble in teaching them what could be of 
use to the poor little things. Making dolls’ chairs! It 
was just putting nonsense into their heads!” Eose says 
she told the vicar as much when he said something about 
it to her, and when he was gone she cried, and said they 
were plotting to turn her out and her poor little fatherless 
children, but she knew Lady Mary would never suffer it. 

Nor do I believe the vicar ever would do so, for the 
babies are very good and happy with her. She is just like 
a mother to them, and they always come up able to read in 
the first standard, and to say the beginning of the cate- 
chism and sing little hymns and know their prayers. 

Eose was disappointed, for it would have been much 


OUE NEW MISTEESS. 


27 


more amusing to teach the making of little mats and 
frames, than to have the little boys squeaking on their 
slates, and rubbing things out into clouds, all the time the 
girls were at work; but her governess quite scolded her for 
wishing it, and said it was just like girls to run after every- 
thing fresh and forget old friends. And then what do you 
think Miss Martin said when the first-class girls didn^t like 
to have those Euination ones taken up to them, and de- 
clared they were dirty and must sit apart, and Frances said 
it was always so before? First she said (and one must 
allow it was true) that they were quite clean now; and then 
she grew very angry, and told us we were just like the 
Pharisees, sticking ourselves apart and looking down on 
those who were doing their best. Frances took it so to 
heart that she cried half the evening, and was always 
kinder to the Euination children afterward; but all our 
people when they heard were offended, and I don^t think 
the Euination people like Miss Martin a bit better for it, 
as she very often had to punish or keep in some of them. 
The big boys used to shout Carrots!^^ if they saw her in 
the road; and the mothers, I do believe, were more against 
her than if they had ventured to come and run on at her 
and ease their minds. 

Mrs. Bolton is a right down good woman, but I think if 
she would have let alone grumbling about Miss Martin, a 
good deal would not have happened as it did happen. 


38 


OUE KEW MISTEESS. 


CHAPTEE IV. 

LOCKED DOOES. 

The real thing that prevented Miss Martin from getting 
on with any one was that she seemed to wish to keep her- 
self to herself out of school hours. She never went out to 
tea. If she was asked — and Mrs. Bryce asked her, and 
several people besides — she always answered that her sister 
was not well enough to go out, and that she did not like to 
be absent from her in. the evening. But then she never 
had any one in to tea herself, and heard all our lessons in 
the school. Indeed, hardly any one ever went into the 
house or saw the sister. The vicar did, certainly, but the 
saying was that the door was kept locked up; no one was 
let inside. Miss Martin did all the shopping, and if any- 
thing was sent home, or a message came while she was 
out. Miss Amy came to the door and took it in with as few 
words as possible, and scarcely showing herself. 

She was lame, and walked with a stick and her sister’s 
arm the few times she was out of the house. She used to 
go to church to the early Holy Communion, and some- 
times in the late evening when it was dark, but never 
to the regular Sunday service, when, indeed, her sister 
was with the children. She always wore black, and a 
bonnet, and she had brown hair. That was the most we 
knew, for even if one went to the door there was a curtain 
over it and a screen a little way inside, so that there was 
no seeing into the room. Only one Saturday Eose Shep- 
herd was taking home a box that her father had been 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 


29 


mending, when, just as she got to the door, such a hail- 
storm came on that Miss Amy asked her in, and brought 
her to the fire to dry herself. 

And do you know,^^ said Eose, “ they had made it the 
prettiest room you ever did see? There was a carpet down 
by the fire, and a lovely worked curtain down from the 
mantel-piece, and dear little white china— Parian, they 
called it— figures upon it, and a dresser full of pretty cups 
and plates, and a table with a glass of flowers, and a sew- 
ing machine, and lots of books on a shelf, and pictures 
and photographs. Oh! and the screen at the door all 
covered with pictures inside, so nice and pretty! No one 
would ever think it was the same place where the Dowlings 
used to live, and keep in such a mess. 

We asked how they got on, and if Miss Amy talked. 
Yes, she had told Eose all the story of the little images, 
and about the guardian angel walking behind the little 
child over the stream, and the story of the martyr girl in 
the photograph floating down the river. 

And,^^ said Eose, I really thought she was just like 
that girl herself. 

She really was just the same color, and her face of the 
same shape; but even at church her eyes had a startled 
look, not like the peacefulness of the martyr at rest. 

Eose took to thinking a great deal of both the sisters 
after that. Perhaps it was because it is her nature to take 
the part of any one who is always being run down, and 
governess Betsy was so fond of her little grumbles about 
Miss Martin, and was sure it could not be all right if they 
kept themselves so close, and let no one know anything 


30 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 


about them, except that Miss Martin had been trained at 
Fishponds, and had had two years^ experience of school- 
keeping. And why should Miss Amy never go out, and be 
so short with every one who came to the door? There 
was only one other that she was willing to let in, and that 
was Mrs. Dyke^s little Bertie, who was only two years old, 
and when his mother was upstairs, when Minnie was born, 
was a good deal left to himself. He wandered out in the 
lane by himself, and Miss Amy heard him crying there, 
and led him in and cosseted him and amused him till her 
sister came in from school and took him home. After that 
he was always trotting off to his Mamy, as he called her, 
and she always opened her door to him and made him very 
happy. 

When Mrs. Dyke was about again she called to thank 
her and show the baby, and invite both of the sisters to the 
christening tea; but though Miss Amy took the baby in 
her arms and almost cried over her, she refused, saying 
that she was such a poor creature that she never went out, 
and they must excuse her; but she sent the loveliest pair 
of baby boots that ever were seen — all white in fancy knit- 
ting. Miss Martin did go for once, and my mother and 
Mrs. Bolton, who were godmothers, did their very best at 
tea-time to get something out of her. They said how sad 
it was for her sister to be so afflicted, and then got on to 
asking if she was born so or if it was an accident; and Miss 
Martin colored up as red as fire, and said, It was an ac- 
cident. 

Then, from saying ‘^How sad!^^ and so on, mother got 
on to asking what accident it was. Palling down-stairs/^ 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 


31 


says Miss Martin, quite short and stiff. “ Mr. Dyke/’ in 
a great hurry, “do you know what time the diocesan in- 
spector is likely to be coming 
And Mr. Dyke, just as if it was on purpose, went on 
talking to her about inspectors, and all the ways of them, 
and telling stories about the children, and quite entirely 
hindered the others from getting a chance to ask any more 
questions. 

And among the stories he told was about Lucy Morgan 
telling the inspector that to the west of Scotland lay the 
He-brides. He must have forgotten or could not have 
known that Mrs. Pearson always did call those islands He- 
brides; and when Miss Martin went into fits of laughing, 
and said that she had known the girls read about a polish 
gentleman, as if he were a very finished one, when he 
really was Polish, poor governess Betsy felt as if they were 
laughing at her mother, and said out quite sharp, Well, 
I^m sure older folks than you, and better, too, always 
called p-o-l-i-s-h polish. Would you be for calling the top 
of that tea-cady Po-lished now?^^ 

'' No, Mrs. Bolton,^" says Miss Martin, but I should a 
gentleman of Poland.-''' 

Poland or Noland I knows nothing about,^-' says 
governess Betsy; ^^but I know I^ve heard my young lord 
called a polished gentleman, not Polish."^ 

Be warned. Miss Martin, said Mr. Dyke; remember 
the effect of forty poles. 

Dangerous ground!"^ said Miss Martin. 

We three, sitting up with Arthur Norton, the boys^ 
pupil-teacher, in the window-seat together, knew the rid- 


32 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 


die, How many foreigners make one uncivil Forty 
poles make one rood;^^ but Mrs. Bolton did not, and she 
would hardly have liked it better if she had; and when she 
saw us all choking with laughing in the window she turned 
upon us, and if we had been all the forty Poles at once she 
could not have scolded us worse for giggling there, and 
mocking and forgetting all that we owed to one that was 
gone, and we should never see her equal again if she did 
not call all the words out of their spelling. She would not 
stay there to hear her mother insulted; and Prances Best, 
who should have more gratitude in her, should come home 
with her that moment. 

They all went at her, declaring that to insult Mrs. Pear- 
son^s memory was the last thing any of them thought of, 
and talking of respect and esteem, and persuading her till 
she began to cry at the thought, and sat down again quite 
pacified, though I believe Frances and Eose caught it,^^ 
as Arthur would say, afterwards. I know that I did from 
Miss Martin herself. She said it was not nice for young 
people to sit tittering in a corner when their elders were 
talking. I am sure it would have been a very dull evening 
if we had not had a little fun among ourselves, and Arthur 
was so droll. But she was always vexed if he walked to 
school with' me; and once when he was getting me some 
blackberries and we were both too late for prayers she was 
downright angry, and not only reproved me, but went 
down and spoke to my mother about our goings on, which 
her sister had somehow been spying out of her upstairs 
window. 

Mother took my part, and said she was quite sure I was 


OUE NEW MISTRESS. 


33 


after no harm^ and young folk couldn^t be as grave as 
judges, and what we did out of school was no concern of 
the mistress, and that she had no notion of her girl being 
spied upon out of window, and by a person whom no one 
knew nothing about. Miss Amy had better look to her- 
self. Then Miss Martin turned so red that mother was 
quite surprised, and made sure she had given it home to 
her and hit the right mark. 

But father was not at all pleased when he heard of it. 
He said it was a right and friendly thing to do, and that 
he was sorry she had been answered in that way, for young 
folks were the better for a check in time, and I was getting to 
be a big girl now, and must be careful, for there was noth- 
ing that would be so grievous to him as for his little Bertha 
to get a name for being fast and going on with lads. 

Mother was all the more put out with the Miss Martins 
for having been the cause of words from father, but she 
told me sharply to mind what I was about, and not bring 
the like on us again. 

And I see now that Miss Martin was quite right and 
kind after all, for we were getting into ways that were not 
nice, and that I did not like to remember in those dread- 
ful days, but it made me dislike Miss Martin all the 
more. 

We thought her quite horrid at the choral society meet- 
ings. I donT know what business she had there, for she has 
no more voice than a tomtit, but she penned us up in a cor- 
ner, and would not let us speak to anybody, or have any 
of the fun we used to have, and Arthur called her the Red 
Dragon. And only think of her calling our choral society 


34 


OUR KEW MISTRESS. 


‘Wery good for a village Why^ it is well kaown that 
we have some of the best voices in the country, and that 
Miss Warne plays the piano as well as any performer in 
Overbury. She was the favorite pupil at Miss Shawls 
seminary. But Arthur says it is all jealousy in Miss Mar- 
tin, because she can^t sing, and is cut out for an old maid, 
with her red hair, and that she wanted ever so much to 
carry on with Mr. Pierce, the exciseman, who is really 
quite the gentleman. He has a splendid voice, and to see 
him riding his bicycle! Oh! he never would look at her, 
they all say. Learning of her was all very well, for she 
does know how to teach; and so she ought, after being at 
a training college; and teaching under her was easier than 
when the children used to be more riotous; but except at 
lessons it was all against the grain, and I never had any- 
thing to do with her that I could help, and felt it unjust 
that she was so grave with me when I did my lessons so 
much quicker and better than either of the other two. 

Frances did not care for her much more than I did, but 
then good old Frances is always slow and sure, and very 
particular to do what she is told, whether she likes it or 
not; so that she never got a scolding, nor into trouble of 
any kind except when she was slow and stupid about her 
lessons, and Miss Martin kept her late to make her under- 
stand them, and governess Betsy was vexed that she was 
not ready sooner to have the class-room swept or go out on 
an errand. Frances was very good indeed. After what 
Miss Martin had said she never w^ould read again one of 
those cheap tales — dreadfuls, I believe they call them 
— that one got at the station; though she did not care for 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 


35 


any book that was not horrid enough to be very interesting, 
not even Ivanhoe/^ 

Eose was very different. She admired both the Miss 
Martins above everything, and always stood up for them, 
wishing very much that her work was in the upper school, 
so as to be with Miss Martin instead of Mrs. Bolton; but 
that did not make her take more pains with her dates or 
her decimals, nor give up reading all the tales she could 
get; but then Eose was always so romantic! 

She wanted to make verses; and once when we had, for 
a bit of composition, to do the history of any very dear 
friends we had ever heard of, Frances could think of no- 
body but David and Jonathan, and just wrote the Scrip- 
ture words as far as there was time for; while I did what 
we had read about in the Sixth Standard Eeader,^^ about 
— oh dear! their names are quite gone out of my head, but 
one lent his armor to the other, and when he was killed, 
dragged the man that did it round the walls at the back of 
his chariot. I can^t remember it, but it was quite the best 
theme, and Miss Martin wrote Excellent under it. 

Bufc when Eose^s composition was called for she blushed, 
and put her face down on it; and when Miss Martin pulled 
it out, this was all it was: 

“ Descend, my muse, and sing the praise 
Of one as is my friend in there; 

They’re sweet and loving in their ways, 

They’ve golden and brown hair. 

Oh! would that I — ” 

And there poor Eosie had stuck fast. We saw the corners 
of Miss Martinis mouth twitching as if she very much 


36 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 


wished to laugh; but she only said gravely^ This is not 
your proper work, 'Rose/’ and then read her something, I 
forget Rrhat, and made her promise to bring it written out 
next day. Eosie was ready to cry, but it did not make a 
bit of change in that great love — I mean enthusiasm — for 
the Miss Martins. 


OHAPTEE V. 

A MYSTERY. 

Everybody was beginning to feel that there was some- 
thing odd about the school-mistress and her sister. As 
mother said, it was not natural that two young women 
should live so much to themselves, and she was quite 
sure it could not be all right. People that were so ready 
to find fault with a little childish nonsense were pretty cer- 
tain to have been to blame themselves, and she should 
never forget how red Miss Martin went at her hint that 
Miss Amy should look at home. 

She said so one evening when she and I had walked up 
to the post-office together, with Miss Elcock, who lived 
with her brother, the tailor, and kept the post-office and a 
little shop. She had just been sorting the letters, and she 
had got a big envelope in her hand, of strong white paper, 
and a twopenny stamp on it, addressed to Miss Martin. 

And do you know, Mrs. Hewitt, says she, one such 
as this comes regular every week, and as regular Miss 
Martin comes and posts another? And they are all to a 
man, and the same man — Mr. Soles, in some street at 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 


37 


Bath! Do you think now, Mrs. Hewitt, that looks well 
for a young woman as no one knows nothing about, and 
is so secret in her ways?^^ 

Mother said it looked odd, but that there might be no 
harm in it, and so Susan Elcock grunted; but she shook 
her head and declared that she had seen a great deal of 
life, and so she had, for she had been in service ever so 
many years before her brother lost his wife and had her 
home to keep house for him. She never saw no good 
come, she said, of people that kept themselves so close; 
they were sure to have a reason for it; and she had her 
doubts of both of the Miss Martins, and chiefly of her that 
was always shut up and would scarcely have a word to say 
to any one, and then only at the door. Then Mrs. Bryce 
came in after some tape, and they talked it all over again. 
Mrs. Bryce was not so much pleased with Miss Martin as 
at first, both because of the refusing the invitations, and 
because Edith and Gertrude had to take their chance of 
being next to the Euination children, who, by the bye, had 
grown quite clean and decent by this time. She agreed 
with the others that it did not look well ; but she did say 
that the vicar knew all about the sisters, and was quite 
satisfied. 

Yes,^^ says Susan Elcock, but nothing is easier than 
to deceive a parson or lady. And she went oft into a 
long story about the way people used to take in the poor 
old gentleman whose cook she had been; and they settled 
it in their minds that as long as a person went to church 
and taught in the Sunday-school, nothing would persuade 
Mr. Hardwicke to believe anything to her discredit. 


38 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 


I told Prances and Rose all about it, though Prances did 
not seem very willing to listen, saying she was tired of the 
way people went on about Miss Martin; but Rose was quite 
delighted. Oh!^^ she said, is it not delicious to have a 
governess with a mystery? Now I shall love her better 
than ever, and dear Miss Amy still more.^^ 

Next time Rose could get us alone she told us that she 
was quite sure that she understood exactly how it was. 
She knew from her books that great ladies, real heroines, 
sometimes had to become humble village school-mistresses 
to escape from their enemies. They always have golden 
hair, you know,^^ says Rosie, and so has Miss Martin; so 
of course she is a heroine. 

Oh,^^ I said, but it is just the color of Marianne 
Budd’s. Is she a heroine 

However, Rosie would have it that Marianne’s was red, 
though I am sure, if two locks had been put together, no 
one would have seen the difference. 

But Rosie had plenty more to say. They are real 
noble ladies,” she said, most likely duchesses or count- 
esses, or baronets — Lady Amicia and Lady Jessica, but of 
course they have some grander name than Martin — Morti- 
mer, or Montgomery, or De Pitzpatrick; the names with a 
De before them are always the grandest, you know. They 
have got a wicked uncle, who has hold of their estate, for 
their father, the dear young lord, was married in secret to 
a sweet young maiden, a violet of lowly birth, who pined 
in secret — ‘ Still she said in accents fainter,’ and she died 
when her twin daughters were born.” 

. Here Prancie cried out, for it was plain that Miss Amy 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 


39 


was the elder by some years^ not only from her stoop, 
which might be only from her lameness, but our governess 
had been heard to tell Emma Smith, when she was rough 
and careless with little Janie, that no one could tell how 
much good the kindness of an elder one might do to a lit- 
tle one, and that she herself knew well what it was to love 
and look up to her sister almost like a mother. 

Eose was rather disappointed, for somehow she thought 
nothing so pretty as for a mother to have twin daughters 
and die, though when one comes to think of it any one 
would like to live to take care of them, and it must make 
a very bad time for the poor little things and them that 
have the care of them. However, Eose was not daunted, 
but went on with her story about their father, the Morti- 
mer de Fitzpatrick, having been killed in battle, and their 
wicked uncle, or cousin, or something, having got all their 
titles and estates, and stolen their mo therms marriage lines, 
and wanting to search them out that he might shut them 
up, or poison them, or send them beyond seas, I am not 
sure which, for Eose changed their history with every tale 
she read; but I think the tyrant had once caught Lady 
Amicia, and thrown her down a dungeon in his castle, and 
that her sister had drawn her up by the help of a beetle 
with a bit of butter on its head and a horsehair round its 
leg, like the man in the dictation lesson, and that was 
what made her lame and bent. Now they were in hiding 
under a feigned name, and the fat letters to Mr. Soles were 
all to prove their rights; and some day a beautiful young 
lord, or perhaps a prince, would come in a britzska with 
six white horses, and restore them to their inheritance; 


40 


OUE NEW MISTEESS. 


and then we should have a great f east^ like the J ubilee^ or 
when Lady Katharine was married, and all would have 
hats with white ribbons, clasped with silver! 

It was of no use to say that such things do not happen 
nowadays. Eose said they did in her books, and really 
they were so amusing we did not want to stop her; and it 
was so dull in the infant school over the little rags of hem- 
ming and sewing in the afternoon, that she really wanted 
something to dream over, or she would have almost gone 
to sleep. And she said everything good always had a mys- 
tery in it, for Mr. Hardwicke had said so both in a sermon 
and when teaching us. So he had, but he meant it in a 
different kind of way. 

She had to alter her story a little, for one morning Miss 
Martinis chimney was on fire. Susan Elcock, who was 
passing by, saw the sparks, and tapped at the door and 
window to tell Miss Amy. Out she came limping with her 
stick from the back kitchen, her arms just out of the 
wash-tub, and Susan vowed and declared that on her 
finger there was a wedding-ring. Susan came in to help 
to throw salt on the fire and knock down the fiaming soot, 
and cast her eyes well about the room; but though she 
said it was all much mor^ genteel than ever she thought 
such a hovel could have been made, she saw nothing to 
take so much notice of as that ring. So, in spite of not 
liking to leave the shop to her brother and the girl, down 
the lane she came to tell mother of it. Nobody else had 
ever seen it, but then there never was much of Miss or 
Mrs. Amy to be seen, and when we came to think it over, 
some one said she had seen a thick blue enamel ring on 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 


41 


that finger, which of course was for a guard, and to hide it. 
It did not look well, mother said, when she told father at 
dinner; she must be going under a false name, and it was 
not seemly. But father whistled, and said when folk saw 
through a millstone like Miss El cock they were apt to see 
a good deal of odd stuff in the way, and told us not to 
spread nonsense about; as if our holding our tongues could, 
be of any'use when Susan Elcock was beforehand with us! 

Mrs. Dyke, we heard, declared she had always thought 
that Amy, whatever she was, Mrs. or Miss, had been a 
mother, from her ways with little Bertie and her look with 
the baby in her arms. Mrs. Bolton said it was plain that 
there was something to be ashamed of, and she was glad 
that she had had so little to do with either of the sisters, as 
if that had been out of her own clear-sightedness, instead 
of because they kept out of the way. And as to Eose, she 
was more delighted than ever, and had a fresh story at 
once about a private marriage with — I think it was a Ger- 
man prince, but perhaps it was a young duke, for he 
changed several times, and once he was our own young 
Earl of Brookfield, who would come down and own her; 
but that was rather too impudent for Frances and me, and 
we made such an outcry that she had to drop it. 

There was a great deal of whispering and guessing all 
round the place, and people did not always make up stories 
as pretty and kind as Eose Shepherd^s. Then came home 
the two Miss Freewards, who had been away for Miss Mar- 
garet^s health all that time. They had always looked 
after the Sunday-school when the family were from home, 
and seen to the clubs, and knew all about every one, till 


42 


OUR OTW MISTRESS. 


Miss Margaret was ill and they had to go to some German 
baths. They brought over so many pretty presents in 
German carving and gray wood with flowers on it! I had 
a blot ting-book^ and Eose a work-case with a bunch of her 
own flowers on it; and we all were very glad to see them 
again^ and wondered what they would have to say to the 
Miss Martins. We made sure of knowing, for their maid. 
Miss Lucas, had been in service with mother, and was her 
great friend. 

And, sure enough. Miss Lucas came and told us how 
horrid it was in Germany, the porters all so rude, and the 
servants so stupid, and with no notion how to get a cup of 
tea, and no proper fire-places, but great ghastly china 
stoves instead; and how she would never have gone 
through with it, but that she did not know what would 
have become of poor Miss Margaret without her. Then 
she said that her ladies had been pleased with the appear- 
ance of the school and the orderly ways, and thought the 
mistress a nice, well-mannered young woman. No doubt 
Miss Lucas would soon entertain her at tea. 

Oh, dear, no!^^ said mother. You need not expect 
that; she is a great deal too high for servants^ company. 

Father put in rather gruffly about the lame sister, and 
mother said no more, only Miss Lucas said she had heard 
of her, and the ladies had been thinking of giving her some 
needle-work. How would they get on with Mrs. Amy, we 
wondered? We heard by and by that they had made their 
call, and though they were let in and asked to sit down, 
they thought her very short with them. She thanked 
them for the offer of needle-work, but she said she already 


OUE NEW MISTEESS. 


43 


had as much as ^he could undertake; she had poor health, 
and did not wish to disappoint any one, and she had the 
care of the house, and helped her sister in setting the chil- 
dren’s work. The ladies thought she seemed languid and 
lazy, a mere novel-reader, for they were sure she must have 
a great many hours on her hands, and that it would be 
much better for her to exert herself. They had put ever 
so many questions — I know exactly how they could do it, 
but they had not managed to find out much about her, ex- 
cept that she had once lived in London, and, as Miss Lucas 
said, they don’t like it;” no, they don’t unless they know 
all about everybody. Trust them, they will get to the 
bottom of it sooner or later, or they will never rest! 


CHAPTEE VI. 
eose’s tidings. 

We had our choral society’s concert in November. We 
always have one then, because the vicar says we ought not 
in Advent; and we had waited till Miss Free ward came 
home, because she always plays a long piece at the begin- 
ning of the parts, that they call the overture. The boys 
would hardly be quiet through it, if it was played by any 
one else. 

We all sung in the Huntsmen’s Chorus,” and in the 

March of the Men of Harlech,” and it was a most lovely 
concert, the best we ever had; everybody said so. Arthur 
and I sat together when we were not singing, and were 
famously jolly in a nice corner behind the door, where 


44 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 


neither Miss Freeward, nor Miss Martin, nor anybody could 
see us except Francie, and she looked so prim and made 
such shocked faces that it was the more fun to tease her, 
for, as we told her, she was growing more like the Eed 
Dragon every day. 

The great fun was to see how awfully spoony Mr. Pierce 
looked when he was singing Nil Desperandum to Miss 
Martinis accompaniment, and Arthur said she made up a 
pussy-cat face, as if she knew nothing about it, just like 
Mrs. Dyke^s old tabby with a dish of sprats on the table. 
And he nudged me to make me look at Miss Shaw, with a 
face as sour as verjuice. However, there was better fun 
still in the second part, for there had come a Mr. Edwards 
down from London. He had been at tea at Mr. Dyke^s, 
and had been as grave and polite as possible, so that 
Arthur did not think he would do anything but just recite 
some long tiresome poem, or something of that sort; but 
no, he said he would give us Mrs. Pettitoes^ tea-fight, and 
he was standing there the whole tea-party in himself! He 
was Mr. Pettitoes, gruff and cross and grumbling at the 
house being turned upside down, and he not being able to 
enjoy his pipe and his slippers, but having to put his corns 
into his dress boots that he hadnT worn since the mayor^s 
banquet. Then it changed to Mrs. Pettitoes, in such a 
different voice, we looked to see if there wasnT a woman 
there, first coaxing him, and therj. scolding her little maid 
for not having run for the tea-cakes, and the little maid’s 
voice came up squeaky and pipy. I’ve been for ’em, 
ma’am, but here’s puss have been a-lickin’ of the butter, 
and I’m a-tidying it up again.” Then, oh! to hear the 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 


45 


scolding, and then the door-hell, and Bless me, whereas 
my best cap?^^ and the mincing voice to the company, and 
all their voices, one after another, as if Mr. Edwards had 
swallowed a houseful of people, and they were all talking 
inside him. And Miss Arabella Pettitoes making the tea, 
and her young man handing the kettle till he poured it out 
all wrong into an old lady^s lap, and then on an old gen- 
tleman^ s bald head, so that they all screeched and screamed 
and jumped up, and so it ended. It Was like hearing the 
real thing behind a curtain, only somehow droller, and one 
would have liked it to go on aU night if we had not been 
quite sore and worn out with laughing. And were not the 
lads delighted? They got into a way of hallooing so loud 
that nobody could hear anything properly afterward. 

But the odd thing was that, when we were all getting up 
to go away, there was Miss Martin shaking hands with Mr. 
Edwards, and talking away to^him, as thick as thieves, 
Arthur said, but I rebuked him for such a vulgar expres- 
sion. They went on till the coachman from Overbury sent 
Bill Bio we in to say he would be late for the train ; and 
then they shook hands again, while Mr. Pierce looked on 
as black as thunder. 

Then I heard Miss Elcock say, Well, if that^s not 
enough to undeceive any young man;’^ and Miss Lucas 
answer, No, it donT look well for a young woman to 
be acquainted with a wandering mountebank fellow like 
that.^^ 

They said it was a pity he had to go away so quick, as 
they might have found out all about her. All is fish as 
comes to her net,^^ says Susan Elcock. 


46 


OUK NEW MISTRESS. 


And it was just after that there began to he a talk that 
Miss Martin had been seen talking to a man near Over- 
bury Station. 

Overbury is about three miles from Brookfield, a good 
step to walk in; but there is a station at Huckster's Pool, 
and it only costs threepence to go in third class. 

Mrs. Bolton had to go in about Bessie^s boots after 
school one day, and saw Miss Martin, as plain as possible, 
under a gas lamp, talking away to a tall, fiashy sort of 
man with a pointed beard (not Mr. Edwards, who is much 
shorter), and when both — I mean Mrs. Bolton and Miss 
Martin — got out at Huckster's Pool, she asked who it was. 

My cousin,^^ says Miss Martin; but she colored up, and 
we all know what that means, says governess Betsy. 

I didn^t know you had a cousin,^^ Mrs. Bolton went 
on, and to ask if he lived at Overbury. 

No, she said, he was there on business. 

Then the train came up, and Mrs. Bolton was convinced 
that it was on purpose that she got into a difi'erent car- 
riage, and did not walk home with her, as would have been 
more comfortable and becoming for a young woman in the 
dark. 

We thought, too, that Miss Martin looked nervous and 
startled in school. She gave a start as if she would jump 
out of her skin at once, when a man, w^ho wanted to photo- 
graph the school children, knocked at the door; and 
seemed frightened even when the school officer came in sud- 
denly. I donT believe Miss Elcock, and Miss Lucas, and 
Mrs. Bolton ever met together without some talk over of 
those meetings, and guesses about them; and though, per- 


OUR NEW MISTRESS, 


47 


haps, there were only those two times, it seems a great 
many more by force of talk. Some one said the vicar 
ought to be told of such goings-on, or Lady Mary; but 
Miss El cock said very likely he would just take no notice, 
it was just his way when she told him anything; Mrs. Bol- 
ton was the right one to do it, being a married woman, and 
in charge, as one might say; but no, she would not be the 
one to speak and get a poor young thing into trouble, and 
my mother had no notion either of being the one to in- 
form. We could all talk as we pleased among ourselves, 
and make the most of it all, but it was quite another thing 
to go. and complain to the gentlefolks, and bring on an in- 
quiry, which Susan said was^as bad as being on oath before 
a lawyer, the vicar did badger one so about authorities and 
exactness. 

However, I believe Lucas did tell her ladies all about it, 
though she never said to us that she did. I think that was 
just after some one had seen a disreputable-looking fellow 
in Kuination Lane, and said at the post-office that it must 
be the mistress’s young man looking out for her; though 
it could not well have been, for that man turned out to be 
a slouching-looking poacher that my father had had his eye 
upon ever so long, and the one Mrs. Bolton saw was a 
smartly got-up sort of chap, only turned shabby. But, for 
all that, it got abroad that Miss Martin had had a meeting 
within the lanes with Harry Bates the poacher! Father 
said that in Brookfield a tale went round and round like a 
cork-screw, and got a little polished up at every turn. 

The Christmas cards were to be had then, though it was 
only November, and Eosie and I got leave one Saturday to 


48 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 


go in and get some^ and I had some errands to do for 
mother, and to get some warm gloves. Hosiers father, Mr. 
Shepherd, had some business, and drove us in his light 
cart. We had finished what we had to do at the stores, 
and were coming out to go to meet Mr. Shepherd at the 
timber yard, when we saw Miss Martin come in quite out 
of breath, and she just went up to a counter out of sight of 
the door, bought a Christmas card or two, and went on 
through the shop. 

We had only just got to the corner when a tall man in 
an ulster said: I beg your pardon, miss, but do you know 
the young lady who is just gone into that shop?’^ 

He spoke very civilly, and Eose answered at once that it 
was our mistress at Brookfield Earl. 

‘‘Indeed,^^ he said; thank you, miss; I thought . I 
knew her face; and may I ask if she lives alone?^^ 

To which Eose answered, oh no, that she lived with her 
sister in a little house not far from the church; and I think 
she would have said more, but that mother had always 
warned me against talking to strange men, and I pulled 
her on after he had thanked her, and then I told her why. 

‘^Oh! but I am sure he is a gentleman, said Eosie. 
^^DidnT you see his dear little black mustache? and his 
studs?^^ 

I thought, though Eosie had not such opportunities as I 
had, not being a keeper^s daughter, she might know a little 
better what a real gentleman was like, for I could not help 
thinking of what governess Betsy had said about a fiashy 
sort of man; but she would have it that he was ever so 
handsome, and so grand-looking, such a height (which he 


OUE KEW MISTEESS. 


49 


was)^ and she made quite sure that he was the hero who 
had been looking for the ladies Amicia and Jessica all 
along, and was coming in the britzska and six to defeat the 
tyrant and restore them to their rights. 

She went on about it, talking so eagerly that if I had not 
looked out for both and guided her along, she would have 
been run into by ever so many perambulators before we 
came to the timber yard, and as we sat on the logs waiting 
she went on just like a book, and I think the little rosebud 
of a maiden who guided the prince was to have some re- 
ward. But not a word did she say about it after we were 
in the cart with her father. Nor did she say anything 
about it to any one else afterward — whether it was from 
being shy, or wishing to keep np her mystery, or having 
some notion afterward that she might have done mischief, 
I do not know. 

But a few days went on, and then in the morning Miss 
Martin came into school ever so pale, and with great red 
rings round her eyes, looking as if she had been crying all 
night. Mr. Hardwicke came too, for it was his morning, 
and took the first class, but she had the second, and I could 
hear that she had hardly the voice to speak loud enough 
for the children to know what she was saying, though as 
the time went on and she gave her mind more to work she 
got on better; but she did not go home to dinner at all, 
and only walked up and down the church-yard path till it 
was time for our lessons, and then she seemed scarcely able 
to keep from bursting out crying. Somehow none of us 
durst ask what was the matter, but by and by there was a 
whisper among the children as they came out of school 


50 


OUR NEW MI3TRESS, 


that the cottage was shut up, and no smoke out of the 
chimney, and that the sister at home was gone ! 

Gone the day before. It turned out that Mr. Elcock 
himself had seen a tall man in an ulster, and a lame young 
woman walking up to the station in time for the 2:42 train, 
but he knew so little of Amy Martin by sight that he never 
suspected who it was till it was all over the place that she 
had run away. 

Miss Martin tried to put a good face on it, poor thing. 
After school was over in the evening she went to Mrs. Bol- 
ton, and told her straight out that she could not help be- 
ing rather upset that day, for her sister^s husband had 
come for her suddenly, and she had gone away with him. 

A married woman after all! But why did she never 
go by his name?^^ 

She did; he is our cousin, Frederick Martin. 

That was all they would let us hear. Governess Betsy 
came and shut the door behind her, and told Frances to go 
down and light Miss Martini’s fire, and put on the kettle. 


CHAPTEE VII. 

JESSIE MARTINIS PRIVATE LOG-BOOK. —ARRIVAL. 

Brookfield Earl, Septemler 9. — My Saturday log- 
book was a great comfort and real help to me at Pirlee, 
when I lived alone and had no one to talk to in the even- 
ings; and though I neglected it in those later days I mean 
to keep it up thoroughly well here, as I can not discuss 
everything with my poor Amy; and though first impres- 


OUR KEW MISTRESS. 


51 


sions are often not to be trusted^ I have founds even in my 
short experience, that it is useful to be able to refer to 
them. We have been here for eight days, but as we 
arrived on Friday quite late, I was much too busy on Sat- 
urday to write anything. 

This is a mere cottage, smaller and rougher than I had 
quite expected, though Mr. Hardwicke had told me it was 
only two rooms and a back kitchen, and the furnitm*e very 
plain and scanty. I was shocked at first at the notion of 
Amy living in such a place, but, poor dear, she declared it 
was a paradise compared with some of the rooms she has 
had to put up with, for it was thoroughly clean, and fresh, 
and sweet when we arrived, with a bright fire, a kettle be- 
side it, everything ready for tea, and even a kitten in a 
basket. 

After all I believe nothing could really be so good for my 
sister as that there should be so much to contrive and to 
do. If she had walked into a house with everything in full 
order she could only have sat down to fret over the past; 
but she has always looked on me as the little sister she had 
to take care of, and though I am now the strong, able one 
of the two, and the bread-winner, she has the same long- 
ing, dear soul, to make everything nice and comfortable 
for me. Nor am I afraid for her strength, for the doctor 
assured me, when I brought her from the Convalescent 
Home at Weston, that nothing would be so good for her, 
body and mind, as household occupation and exercise. A 
larger house might be too much for her, but this is just 
enough for her; and it is astonishing to see the difference 
her clever fingers have made in this little place, which 


52 


OUK NEW MISTKESS. 


seemed so rough and bare at firsts, now that ^e have un- 
packed so many of the dear old things^ which happily were 
in Mr. Soles^ charge and are mine^ so that Fred could not 
make away with them. She takes interest too in contriv- 
ing nice little dinners for me, and really her spirits are bet- 
ter than I dared to hope, though she is very sad sometimes, 
and shrinks from being seen by any one. I can not won- 
der, nor do anything to press her, when I see how sadly she 
is changed, and recollect how lovely she was, and think of 
all she has gone through. I wish much I could persuade 
her to see a few people and have a little change; it would 
be so good for her spirits. She will not even hear of my 
having the pupil-teachers to do their lessons here, though 
it would be better for us all, and make a variety for her; 
but she said that if I brought a set of gossiping girls in 
upon her she could n6t bear it. I am glad there is a late 
evening service as well as early morning communion, for 
the church is not too far olf for her to walk there with my 
arm, and she will venture it in the dark, or when there are 
few people. 

But I meant to write about the church. It is a little old 
church, covered with ivy, and beautiful inside, though of 
course not equal to Pirlee or to the abbey. Mr. Hardwicke 
preached such a comforting sermon that I did wish Amy 
could have heard it. I like him very much, and so does 
Amy, for she has let him talk to her. Mr. Dyke, the 
school-master, says he interferes too much, and does not 
like his coming alternately to the two schools for their les- 
son on religious subjects. Mr. Dyke thinks his own lessons 
teaeh much more than those of any one not trained can do. 


OUK KEW MISTRESS. 


53 


and declares that Ms subjects were the only ones that got 
any credit from the diocesan inspector. • I do not think he 
is right — surely we do not only teach those subjects to get 
good marks for our classes; and from what I have over- 
heard of the vicar^s lessons, they may touch the soul and 
train the life in ways that merely facts and knowledge such 
as tell in an inspection never can. 

It is true, however, that technical teaching and system 
have been very much wanting here, though every one (ex- 
cept Mr. Dyke) is never tired of telling me what an excel- 
lent woman the late mistress was. He says, Just the 
old-fashioned dame. Miss Martin, tolerated out of favor to 
my Lady Brookfield. She must have been more than 
that, however, judging by what her best scholars know. 
Her grave is covered with fresh flowers, and I should like ■ 
to think that I shall be as much loved and respected as she 
must have been. 

The school and parish are in two great divisions. There 
are about thirty girls belonging to the original inhabitants, 
mostly dependants of the estate, all beautifully neat and 
trim, plump and healthy, and in general rather prim and 
stolid, and with a notion that nobody ever knew as well as 
themselves, because they are at her ladyship’s school, but 
altogether good orderly children enough. There are near- 
ly forty more from the potteries by Huckster’s Pool Sta- 
tion, new-comers to the place from all parts, whom it is the 
custom to look down upon and call the Euination lot,” 
from the old name of the field where the potteries are. I 
shall try to put an end to that title, which is enough to 
drag them down. I have entered their residence in the 


54 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 


register as Huckster's Pool^ and the vicar said he was glad 
to see that I had done so. Some of them are very wild and 
rough-looking, with heads and hands that are not pleasant 
to look at, and a good many rags of dirty finery. I see by 
the register that they have attended very irregularly, but 
this week they have come pretty well, owing perhaps to 
novelty. It can not be pleasant to them to be treated so 
much as outcasts; the others edge themselves away from 
them on the forms, and will not let them join in their 
games, and I must say there is some excuse. 

I once read somewhere that the great head master. Dr. 
Arnold, advised a gentleman who was going to be head 
master at another public school to wait a year before he 
made any great change. A year would be too long, but I 
have waited a week before doing anything I can help, 
though I have seen much that my fingers tingle to set to 
rights — droning and drawling in school, rushing out as a 
lawless rabble, rudeness on the part of one set, scorn on 
that of the other, and dreadful singing. 

Mrs. Bolton, the infants^ mistress, takes ail this as a 
matter of course, and seems quite offended if I show my 
disapproval. Indeed, I might have been more careful, as 
she is daughter to the late mistress. ‘‘ Quite behind the 
world, says Mr. Dyke, only kept on out of charity. 
She is a very homely body, with no training, only working 
under her mother; but, as she is a widow, she has nothing 
else except this school to depend on for herself and her two 
children. She could hardly work anywhere else, and per- 
haps I might help her in time to improve her method, and 
sit for a certificate; but I am afraid she was rather huffed 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 


55 


because I declined drinking tea with her. I know Amy 
would not hear of coming, and I can not leave her to her- 
self all the evening. She likes to hear of the children, and 
to help me set their work, and Mr. Soles has promised to 
send her some embroidery to do, which is very kind in him, 
but he will never forget how long and how well poor father 
w^orked for him. 

Three pupil-teachers are a good many for a little school 
such as this, but I believe one was added to help poor Mrs. 
Pearson with the increased numbers. One, Eose Shep- 
herd, is entirely in the infant school, but of course has to 
study with me, as Mrs. Bolton is not certificated. Eose is 
a merry little plump, idle thing, who does not seem likely 
to pass, judging from the present quality of her work. In- 
deed, I can not think how she passed before, as she must 
have done; but I fancy she is one of those girls whose 
powers come out under the stimulus of excitement; and, 
after all, it was only the fifth standard. 

Frances Best is an orphan, boarded with Mrs. Bolton. 
She gives me the notion of being a steady, well-principled, 
dutiful girl, but not clever, and not qualified by nature for 
a teacher — indeed, only made one because it was the most 
convenient thing to do with her. Her performances are 
very poor, and she dawdles over her class, and lets them 
dawdle so that I can hardly keep off them according to my 
resolution; and when I reminded her of the time-table, she 
said, Oh, we never can keep sharp to that!^^ I am 
afraid there is a struggle to come, and I hope I shall keep 
well in mind our kind chaplain^s last lecture to us about 
the sisters three, needed in education — faith, hope and 


OUK KEW MISTRESS. 


patience, all backed by prayer. I felt the truth of it even 
at Pirlee, where I stepped into a well-disciplined school. 
They are all the more needed here. 

Bertha Hewitt is by far the cleverest of the pupil-teach- 
ers, as well as the handsomest, and she knows it. She has 
bright dark eyes, a high color, good features, and hair 
curling about her forehead as much as the rules of the 
place will permit; and they must have been very strict, for 
there is hardly a flower or a feather among the old Brook- 
fi.eld set; and certainly they are a pleasant contrast to the 
Huckster's Pool girls, with their battered stumps of feath- 
ers, ragged flowers, and dirty old tennis aprons. I fancy 
Miss Bertha is as dressy as she dares to be, but she does 
her lessons much the best, and has some idea of teaching 
and of keeping order, though I was obliged to interfere 
with her for striking a child — not hard, but blows must 
not be suffered. She did not take rebuke at all well — de- 
clared that it was necessary: Governess always struck, 
and permitted the teachers to do so;^^ and Frances took 
her part, as well as Mrs. Bolton, who declares that nothing 
but the stick will serve with the Euination lot.-’^ 

She may be right. I know there are lawless children 
who will defy authority if they think there is no power to 
beat them; and there are oEenses, chiefly those of young- 
children against propriety or humanity, better met with a 
slight, prompt blow than by words; but at any rate I am 
resolved that no one shall strike a blow except myself, and 
not without grave cause. 

By way of being able to judge of these three girls^ 
amount of understanding and attainment, I desired them 


OUR KEW MISTRESS. 


57 


to write out for me the paraphrase of any poem they might 
choose which they had learned. This is their production: 

There was a lady named Eosabelle. She was staying 
with some friends^ and she would go home across the sea, 
though she was warned that it would he dangerous because 
her mother would be lonely, and her father wanted her to 
pour out his wine; and besides, there was a great ball — and 
a gentleman she liked was to ride and give her a ring. 
But she was drowned and not buried like the rest of her 
family. There were said to be strange signs and dreams, 
but of course they were not true. A firth is a narrow bay 
or broad estuary in Scotland : an inch is a small island. A 
sprite is the contraction of a spirit. 

There Bertha gave up her composition to me— -unfin- 
ished, I suppose, hlext I looked at: 

Once upon a time there was a beautiful young lady 
named Eosabelle in a castle. And her true love, whose 
name was Lord Lindsay, was to dance with her and give 
her a gold ring; and she longed much to go home; and the 
water-spirit screamed, and the old man saw a wet shroud 
swathed round a maiden fair, and there was a great light, 
and there was a storm, and the sea holds lovely Eosabelle; 
and Lindsay leaped in to save her, and he was drowned 
dead; and the chapel is all on fire whenever one of the 
lordly line is going to die, and the sea holds lovely Eosa- 
belle. 

Berfcha says that Eose chose the poem for them all, be- 
cause she likes Eosabelle, and would like to write her name 
so. 

Here is Franceses performance: 


58 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 


Oh;, hear and hearken, vain gentlewomen. I narrate 
no proud deed of weapons: Gentle is the little letter, and 
sorrowful it lies down, that laments the pretty Eosabelle — 
Fasten up your canal-boat, brave sailors, and, mild 
gentlewoman, vouchsafe to remain reposed in Castle 
Eavensheugh, and do not try to make sin the tempestuous 
estuary to-day. The dark billows are bordered with foam, 
three barleycorns to a big stone, the sea-cat springs with a 

cry—'' 

There I called for poor Franceses work before she had 
done any more! I do feel obliged to her after all, for Amy 
could not help giving the first laugh I have heard since we 
met again over the mild gentlewoman, and this version of — 

“ The blackening wave is edged with foam, 

To inch and rock the sea-mews fly/’ 

I could not imagine where Frances had found her cat 
till Amy reminded me of the sea-mew. 

It is clear that if Bertha has the most ability, Frances’s 
memory is the most exact, and Eose must have some 
fancy, or she would not have drowned poor Lord Lindsay 
too. How shall I get on with them? 

Of one thing I am very glad : the religious knowledge of 
all the old scholars is far in advance of their other attain- 
ments; and though it is somewhat by rote and wanting in 
intelligence, they have evidently been trained in reverential 
habits. 

May I only keep this up, and not fail in what our chap- 
lain calls the higher mission of a school-mistress! 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 


59 


CHAPTEE VIIL 

LOG-BOOK. — CONQUEST. 

September 16. — I am glad it is Saturday. Amy does 
not wish me to sit down and write, saying I am tired 
enough ; but she will not let me help her with her Sunday 
pie, and I should like to tell how I have got on. 

First I had to see Mrs. Bolton and ask her to arrange 
with me the time I should give to the infants. She did 
not like it, but I showed her the rule that, as she is not 
certificated, the head teacher must give some time in every 
week to the little ones. She grumbled, and said the gen- 
tlemen and their rules were enough to drive off one^s head 
if one was to be always worriting about them; but she 
ended by allowing that poor mother was always in and out, 
and latterly had let her see to the needle-work in the after- 
noon, having younger eyes. So I have settled that on two 
afternoons in the week we shall change places for an hour, 
as Mrs. Bolton is really an excellent needle-woman, and 
Franceses work is exquisite. I give the little things some 
kindergarten exercises and songs with action, and they 
seem to be brightened and pleased; but the humming and 
buzzing I had stopped at other times begins the instant I 
leave the upper school, and I find girls standing about and 
lolling in a manner I never allow for a moment. Disci- 
pline will never be what it ought to be while this goes on, 
and my strictness will be contrasted with her good-nature. 

However, my rules are observed, though they seemed to 
astonish the children very much; and Bertha told me so 


60 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 


often that governess never required such and such a thing, 
that I am afraid I lost my temper, and told her that 

governess was never to he brought up to me again; 
upon which Frances began to cry, and I tried to explain 
how far I was from feeling any disrespect, only that every 
one had different methods. The vicar seems satisfied, 
which is a comfort. 

I had two or three battles: one with a Huckster's Pool 
child, who was eating sweets in class and howled when they 
were taken from her till I overcame her; and another with 
a certain Kate Thomson, a Brookfield child, who refused 
to call Salisbury Saulsbury. I did not know what I was 
bringing on myself when I corrected her, and certainly the 
spelling was in her favor when she drew down her black 
brows and deliberately repeated: Sa-lis-bury.^^ On my 
next attempt, the head girl, Annie Knowles, observed: 

Please, ma’am, no one can do anything with Kate 
Thomson when she is like that — not her mother, nor no- 
body. ” 

I saw Bertha and Prances looking up from their classes, 
and everybody’s head raised to see the pitched battle be- 
tween Kate and me, and I remembered the rule I had 
heard, never absolutely to try to force a sulky child to do 
what it is impossible to make her do; so I only made each 
of the children below her in the class say the capital of 
Wiltshire, and go above her. 

She would not stir, and I had to make all the seven girls 
below her move above her while she stood like a stock. 

I took no notice of her, but finished the lesson with the 
others; and, as it was dinner-time, dismissed them, keep- 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 


61 


ing her a few moments to argue with her that, in spite of 
the spelling, no one would understand a person who per- 
sisted in calling it Sa-lis-bury, and that it was foolish and 
disobedient to stand out. She would not utter a word, 
and I doubt if she heard me, so I told her to go home, and 
said I hoped to see her wiser. I think she was rather sur- 
prised, and the pupil-teachers, as soon as she was gone, re- 
galed me with stories of her obstinacy: how mother had 
deprived her of meals and her father had beaten her in 
vain; how Mrs. Pearson had kept her a whole day in a 
cupboard, and above all, how Miss Freeward had actually 
stayed all one Sunday morning through church-time with 
her trying to make her say her collect right. And she 
seemed never yet to have been conquered; she has always 
tired people out, and no doubt is proud of it. 

So I thought the best line would be only to say to the 
girls that she was a very foolish child, but I had heard of 
many like her, so as to lessen the wonder and excitement; 
and afterward I let things go on just as usual. She is 
rather an intelligent girl, and has caught the first attempts 
at mental arithmetic quicker than most people, and the 
next day she mounted to the head of the class. Then I 
gave a lesson in geography in which the word occurred, 
and in the excitement of answering questions and keeping 
her place she actually called Salisbury quite right. 
Everybody grinned, and I could not help saying: ‘^Well 
done, Kate.'’ ^ Afterward in the recess I talked to her a 
little, with great fear lest I should bring on the sullen fit 
again by being thought to scold; so I told her that I had 
not meant to trick her into saying Salisbury, but I wished 


62 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 


she had done so at firsts as it would have been better for 
all. 

^‘It is my temper, ma^am/^ said she. ‘^Mother says 
she never saw no one with such a temper. 

She seemed quite proud of it, and surprised when I said 
it was a very sad thing; and then I reminded her how the 
Israelites were blamed for being stiff-necked, and Pharaoh 
for hardening his heart. It seemed rather to shock her; 
however, she said: One can^t help one^s temper. 

I told her we could, and begged her to say within her- 
self, Oh, liord, bend my will,^^ whenever she felt the 
stubborn mood coming on. I do not know whether she 
will try, or if the mood will let her, poor child; but I do 
believe there is a great deal of good in her, and her whole 
appearance shows that she belongs to a nice family, and I 
have marked her initials down that I may not forget her 
when I pray for my scholars. 

Another thing I have been trying is to get the Huckster 
children neater by making them wash their hands and 
faces, and tidy their hair with an old comb that Amy 
found for me; and I have set them to mend and patch the 
rags in their dress — no easy matter; but I have helped them 
a good deal, and it is capital practice. 

Yet these are the thanks I get. I went to Huckster's 
Pool this morning to get some tape and buttons, for there 
are more shops there than in Brookfield, and suddenly a 
woman bounced out of one of the red houses in Paradise 
Eow with Be you the governess? Then 1^11 thank you 
not to be meddling with my child^s hair nor her clothes; I 
can do what I thinks fit myself.-’^ 


OUK NEW MISTRESS. 


63 


Then I hope you I said. 1 should be very 

thankful to see her looking nice.^^ 

That^s no business of your^n/^ she said. 

Indeed, I answered, I always thought it part of 
my duty to train my pupils in clean and tidy habits. 

Well, I donT want no fiddle-faddling, nor patching as 
donT match 

And she banged the door and left me, glad it was over! 
I hope I did not seem frightened, or I shall have no peace, 
and I do not mean to worry Mr. Hardwicke whenever a 
mother flies at me. After all, as Amy says, one should 
remember that they are apt to feel rather sore at being 
obliged to send their children to school without any choice 
in the matter. Perhaps they may learn to trust me and 
grow friendly in time. 

Yet really the people who are friendly are almost worse 
than those who are not. Is every place as inquisitive as 
this, I wonder? First there was the young person at the 
drapery shop wanted to know how I liked the place, and 
what I thought of the sermon last Sunday, and if I was 
used to town or country, and if I had ever kept school be- 
fore; till I was so tired of it that I had very nearly gone 
off without my change. 

Then when I went to the butcher^s for a bit of meat, 
Mrs. Bryce must needs come out as civil as may be, but 
she had her catechism too. I have her two little step- 
daughters, and I think she wanted to know whether I was 
genteel enough to teach them, for she inquired whether I 
played the piano, and if I could give them lessons at extra 
times; and she asked where I had learned, and who had 


64 


OUK KEW MISTEESS. 


taught me, and what my style was, with an evident desire 
to give me a sense of her accomplishments, also to make 
me feel myself honored by the attendance of the Miss 
Bryces at my school, and to show me that it depends not 
merely on their progress but on the proper respect that I 
may pay them, and which they certainly will not receive, 
for I am not going to make distinctions between my 
scholars. 

Mrs. Bryce, however, talked too much to want much 
answer from me. And she was nothing to the post- 
mistress, thin and sharp-nosed, and curious to the last 
degree as to what I could possibly want a two-penny stamp 
for. All the catechism at the drapery shop was gone 
through again, and whether my sister was older or younger? 
had she always lived with me? had my friends been in busi- 
ness? till I felt that something was coming that I knew not 
how to answer, and I gave her a hasty good-morning and 
fled out of her shop. Why can not people let on alone? 

The next person I fell in with was Mr. Dyke, the school- 
master, walking home from the station with a parcel of 
books from the library at Overbury, which he says is a 
very good one. 

I had not seen Mrs. Dyke yet. Her baby was born only 
two days after we came, but Amy has made acquaintance 
with the elder child, a dear little fellow of about two years 
old, whom she heard crying in the road and brought in. 
She really seems to take pleasure in petting and playing 
with him when he toddles up to the gate. It is quite a 
blessing that he should be a comfort and delight to her, 
when it would have seemed as if it might be quite the 


OUR KEW MISTRESS. 


65 


other way, and that she would shrink from the sight of a 
little child even more than she does from that of a grown 
person. 

However, Mr. Dyke began by thanking me for my sis- 
ter^s kindness to little Bertie, and then he began to talk 
about the choral society which it seems they have here, and 
which gives a concert or two every winter, hoping that we 
would join in it. I said I did not think I should be of any 
use, for, though I have ear and knowledge enough to teach 
the children with the help of the harmonium, my voice is 
too thin and weak for public singing. If he could have 
heard Amy in former times, he would not have let us off 
so easily; but of course I gave no such hint — indeed, it is 
scarcely likely that she will ever sing again, even if she 
have any voice left, which I doubt. 

Mr. Dyke was very polite, wanting to carry my basket, 
and, when I asked about the subscription to the library 
whence his books came, offering to arrange for me and 
change the books. There is a village lending library here, 
but, as he said, the choice is a good deal restricted, and I 
am afraid the children's little stories and improving books 
would not interest Amy. The subscription is chiefly for 
her sake, so that Mr. Dyke may think his compliment 
thrown away when he rejoiced in having acquired a neigh- 
bor with intellectual tastes. 

Poor man! he evidently thinks himself wasted, down 
here, out of the reach of all society except when he can 
walk into Overbury; and, as he says, he is looked down 
upon by all the uneducated, dull old farmers and village 
tradesmen. ^ Never, he says, will he be tempted into a 


66 


OUR KEW MISTRESS. 


model parish again^ to be dragooned by parsons and ladies, 
and made a Sunday hack! 

I could not fully make out what he meant, for it seems 
that he made the engagement to be organist and choir- 
master, and that he is only occasionally wanted to help in 
the Sunday-school; but it seems that he does not like any 
criticism of his choice of tunes, and that he resents Mr. 
Hardwicke^s being present at the practices and rebuking 
the boys for any want of reverence. The last and worst 
grievance seemed to be that the vicar had insisted on 
punishing some boys who were playing at marbles on a flat 
tombstone in the church-yard, an offense which he con- 
sidered to be out of school, and therefore not to be noticed. 

When I said that I thought the great object of all we 
did was to make the children good, and that one might be 
thankful for any supporting influence, he shrugged up a 
shoulder and said that was the old theory, but that he did 
not believe in the school-master being the satellite of the 
clergyman. Let each keep to his own work.^^ 

The work of each is the training of the children,^ ^ I 

said. 

Let him mind the souls, and me mind their intel- 
lects."" 

But how are their souls to be got at except through 
their intellects? I should think nothing worse for them 
than to let them detect any difference between the master 
and clergyman."" 

He laughed, and said he knew better than to do so, and 
that I must remember that all he had said was in confi- 
dence. So, of course, I promised not to mention this; nor 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 


67 


shall even Amy hear, for she always hated arguments, and 
thought them disputes. He said good-humoredly that he 
might have known that the lady^s view was always with 
the parson, but that for his part, and that of all thinking 
men, religion was one thing, instruction another. 

“ And I have been taught,^^ was my answer, that re- 
ligion running through all instruction and training makes 
education. 

So have he said, with an odd air as if he thought 
he had outgrown it. But I do not wish to disturb you. 
Miss Martin. No doubt you and the vicar will get on 
happily enough, but see what you say to influence when 
the Miss Freewards come home.-^^ 

What can they be like? Is it his prejudice? If they are 
meddlesome I hope they will be satisfied with the school, 
and let Amy alone. 


CHAPTEE IX. 

LOG-BOOK.— CHORAL PRACTICE. 

September 23. — There will be no escaping the choral 
society after all. Mr. Hardwicke came and made a point 
of it, saying that there are a good many giddy young 
things among the members, and that while the Miss Free- 
wards are away he wants to have some steady person to be 
a check on them. 

I canT quite believe it, but at my age is it possible for 
me to be a check? and will not trying it make them like 
me all the worse? However, that is not the point; one 


68 


OUB KEW MISTKESS. 


can only do one^s duty, and take the chance — or rather, 
put it into God^s hands. It has been a stormy week alto- 
gether. A Huckster’s Pool woman came to fetch home a 
child who was kept in, but she was soon tamed, and went 
away rather pleased than otherwise. Two more have come 
up after hours to abuse me because I have punished their 
children: one, a great girl to whom I gave a touch of the 
cane after school for bullying a poor little weakly one, and 
taking away her dinner; and the other whom I punished 
with a double lesson for stealing a slate pencil. This last 
woman was reasonable, and assured me that she should 
give Janie a good warming ” as soon as she came home, 
which was more than I desired, though it may be well to 
impress on her the greatness of the offense. The other, 
Mrs. Lock, would not believe me, was very violent, so as 
quite to frighten Amy, and went off to the vicar. He 
came the next morning and made a regular investigation, 
which ended of course in his understanding the matter, 
and giving a very severe reproof to Lizzie Lock, and also, 
as I understand, to her mother. They are a very rough 
family, and the brothers have set on the other boys to 
shout at my unlucky hair as I walk along the street. Mr. 
Dyke heard them, and was very angry, wanting to punish 
them, but I laughed at him, and told him it was against 
his principles to punish for offenses out of school. 

Some of the Huckster children are already quite clean 
and neat, so I have made it a reward to them to come and 
join in the games I have been teaching in the recess time., 
but this gives offense in thn other quarter. Alice Wright 
and her sister actually slipped out of the game, and one of 


OUK KEW MISTRESS. 


69 


the mothers has been remonstrating with me^ though she 
was silenced when I said I had ascertained that the child 
was clean^ and being there myself^ I prevented any bad 
words, but I doubt whether she was convinced. Mrs. 
Bryce, too, is displeased that I do not keep Edith and Ger- 
trude sitting on a form apart, and talked about the Overbury 
seminary last time I went to the shop. However, the 
butcher came out and said, No, no, missus. I'll have no 
nonsense. Treat my maids just as you would the rest. 
Miss Martin; I don^t want them to give themselv'es no 
airs. 

That is at least a comfort, but I have greatly affronted 
Mrs. Bolton by offering to lend her a book on the kinder- 
garten system, and to show her some of the exercises. She 
says she has always given satisfaction to her ladyship and 
lady Mar}', and has worked as her poor dear mother al- 
ways did, and she has no opinion of new methods. Play 
instead of work, that^s not her notion; making children 
idle. 

Amy says I began about it too soon, and I know I am 
always hasty; but I am sorry to have done anything to set 
her more against me, for it is a pity not to work together. 
Besides, this homely infant school will drag down the 
merit grant. 

Another trouble is with the pupil-teachers. When I 
took my hour in the infant school last Monday, Eose 
Shepherd in great haste tucked a book into her apron 
pocket. I told her that the school hours were not the 
time for learning her lessons, on which her plump cheeks 
colored ten times deeper, and as she moved the book fell 


70 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 


out of the pocket. It was a foolish cheap novel. Oh, 
Eose!’^ I said, did not think you would have done 
this.-'^ She began to cry, and said it was a book that her 
brother sent her. To which I answered that she must 
know it was not right to amuse herself in lesson-time. I 
would not say more before the little ones, and she managed 
not to let me get her alone for the next two days; but on 
Thursday, when I had to run home to fetch a book before 
their lesson, I found them all three reading Bootles^s 
Baby together, to beguile the time. I know it is not a 
bad book; I found it among Amy^s things, and was divert- 
ed by it; but if they read such tilings they will read worse, 
so I gave them all a talking to, on the folly and tempta- 
tion and mischief of idle reading, and told them how they 
might help themselves on by reading the improving books 
in the library; but they only looked very cross in their 
different ways — ^Bertha as if she would be saucy and de- 
fiant if she dared; Prances dull and sullen; and Eose half 
crying, half angry. 

Amy says it is hard on the poor things to expect them to 
read for improvement when they have been hard at work 
all day, and reminds me that I like a story as well as any 
one. Well, that^s true, but it should not be one of that 
silly exciting kind that are only too cheap; and I liked to 
read travels, and histories too, when I was getting up a 
subject, and could talk them over with the other teachers. 
It is a pity that the library books here are either very 
simple village tales or rather dry. Mr. Dyke quite made a 
face over them when I was looking for something to 
interest Amy. 


OUK KEW MISTRESS. 


71 


Mr. Dyke is put out at the school going to church on 
saints^ days, though, as they do so instead of the Scripture 
lesson, no time is lost, and I do not see why he should 
complain. The boys do not behave well at church, and I 
am afraid I saw nods and smiles passing between Bertha 
and their pupil-teacher, Arthur Norton. He is an Over- 
bury boy, and is not here on Sunday, but lodges here in 
the week and comes up the same lane with Bertha. Amy 
sees them from her window, and says they come nearer 
romping than is well between a boy and a girl of at least 
fifteen years of age. 

Septemler 30. — I like Mrs. Dyke. She is a gentle, quiet 
little woman, too much wrapped up in her children to be 
afflicted with as much curiosity as her neighbors; and I 
rather hope that Amy may take to her and her little baby, 
whom she brought in to show us when inviting us to the 
christening on Michaelmas Day and the tea afterward. I 
could see that holding the little thing was a painful pleas- 
ure to my poor sister, but nothing would induce her to ac- 
cept the invitation. It was just as well, for the good folk 
asked more questions than ever, and an innocent joke of 
Mr. Dyke^s brought us nearer to a quarrel with Mrs. Bol- 
ton than ever before. 

Perhaps, however, her presence might have been a re- 
straintj as she is older and gentler than I am. They cer- 
tainly could not have ventured to ask the cause of her 
lameness, nor put me to so much difflculty as to speaking 
truth without telling what she shrinks from having known; 
though I see the vicar thinks it a mistake, when there is 
no blame attached to her, poor dear. 


n 


OUK KEW MISTRESS. 


The pupil-teachers were sillier than ever, and Mrs. Bol- 
ton fell upon poor Frances, who was really the quietest of 
the three. I let it alone till this morning, when I went to 
the lodge to speak to Bertha before her mother, but it was 
of very little use. Mrs. Hewitt was foolish enough to de- 
fend her, and say that it was nonsense to make a fuss 
about a little play between young people; so I have only 
made another enemy. 

No, I wish I had not written that, for it puts me in 
mind of how poor Emma Black was always fancying ene- 
mies, and how silly we thought her, and how stupidly mis- 
erable she made herself, j^my says mothers always do 
stand up for their children, but that it does not follow 
that they do not scold the children well afterward. And I 
fancy that is quite true, and I hope I have done my duty, 
though perhaps it might have been better done. 

October 7. — The first meeting of the choral society is 
over. Several of the men of the choir; eight or ten young 
women who have voices, or think they have; Mr. Dyke; 
the pupil-teachers, and myself; with Mr. Hardwicke, who 
is not particularly musical, acting as president. Miss 
Warne, from one of the farms, made some wonderful runs 
on the piano> and thumped it vehemently, which it seems 
is thought the thing here. But Mr. Dyke begged that I 
would accompany him in The Village Blacksmith and 
then Mr. Pierce, the tall young excise-man, begged that I 
would do the same by him if I could play the accompani- 
ment to Nil Desperandum,^^ which of course I could; 
but I rather wished I had not, for Miss Warne pouted; 
and I tried all I could to get out of having to learn and 


OUK NEW MISTKESS. 


73 


practice anything new with him^ bnt Mr. Hardwicke him- 
self requested me; and Mr. Dyke told me afterward that 
Miss Warne will not attend to anything but the effects she 
produces^ and always puts out any one whom she accom- 
panies. 

I am only to sing in the choruses^ for we are to have 
the Huntsmen^s Chorus/^ and the March of the Men 
of Harlech at our Christmas concert. 

But I was very much startled when Mr. Pierce turned 
round on me^ and declared that he knew I could favor 
them^ for he had heard the sweetest strains proceeding 
from my cottage window, and had stood entranced to 
listen. When and what was it?^^ I asked. It was at 
about four o^clock two or three days ago, and it was a 
hymn. 

Of course it was Amy singing to little Herbert Dyke, for 
I am always in school with the three teachers till five. So 
she has found her voice for him, though she has never let 
me guess it. I was obliged to own that it was my sister 
singing, and at once he and most of the men present began 
to press me to induce her to join the society and sing at 
the concert; but I could not help observing that not one of 
our own sex requested it. Is it jealousy, or is it any suspi- 
cion? I declared that it was impossible and useless to ask 
her, and Mr. Hardwicke came to my help, saying that he 
knew Miss Martinis sister was not in health to come out in 
the evening or sing in public. 

I have not told her of the request, nor even that she was 
heard, for it would only frighten her and prevent her from 
ever singing again, and I am so glad that she is beginning. 


74 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 


I am sure the quiet and occupation here are doing much 
for her health and spirits; she moves more easily^ looks 
better, and altogether seems to be recovering from the shock. 

Of one person she has quite made a conquest, namely, of 
little Eose Shepherd, whom she was obliged to ask into 
the house during a thunder-storm, and made very happy. 
The next morning the child brought a bunch of fuchsias 
and late roses for her, and really has been another creature 
with me ever since, ceasing to follow Bertha’s lead in op- 
position, brightening up with welcome when I come into 
the infant school, and altogether making herself pleasant, 
though I think it is more for Amy’s sake than mine. 

She is an idle little being too, and it is very hard to get 
her to,, pay attention to anything she thinks dry. Her 
sums are wretched work, but she is beginning to perceive 
that there are romantic stories in history, and she says with 
clasped hands and an affected manner that she adores 
poetry. 

She can say all the verses in the school readers, and is a 
little index to the places where each passage is to be found; 
but I very much doubt whether her grammar, needle- work, 
or arithmetic will pass. Frances, with not half the ability, 
has plodded on far before her, and always does what she is 
told, though not always agreeably. 

[Note. — There are very full comments on the character 
and progress of the individual scholars, and the mode of 
dealing with them; but these are omitted, as, though they 
show Jessie Martin’s conscientious work, they might be 
wearisome to the reader.} 


OUK NEW MISTRESS. 


75 


CHAPTEE X. 

LOG-BOOK. — OLD ACQUAINTANCE. 

October 14. — The first concert is to be on November 
15th, so as to be over before Advent, and in the meantime 
we meet every Thursday evening for practice. The chil- 
dren have been very good this week, and seem to under- 
stand their standard work better, but it is very hard to get 
them out of the old dame-school habit of shouting out each 
word as they read, without any expression. I doubt 
whether the elder set ever will be cured, and I am afraid 
each fresh relay from the infants will bring in the practice 
afresh, and have to be broken of it. However, I am in 
much better spirits about the inspection next spring. The 
report can not well be much worse than the last. 

October 28. — I missed last Saturday, for I had nothing 
particular to say, except what seemed too foolish to men- 
tion, that Mr. Pierce loould walk home with me, and was 
altogether more attentive than was comfortable. He is a 
nice, respectable, well-mannered young man enough, and 
even Mr. Dyke thinks him sufficiently intellectual to be 
tolerable society, but I am not going to attend to anything 
of that sort while Amy depends on me. I do not think a 
school-mistress ought even to think of marriage under five- 
and-twenty, so as to waste all her training and education; 
and I do not believe I shall wish to marry even then, while 
I have my dear, sweet sister to need me and make a home 
for me. I can not fancy caring for a man half as much as 
I do for her, and he would be so much in the way in my 


76 


OUR KEW MISTRESS. 


work. Besides, if I did, it would certainly not be Mr. 
Pierce, though there is no harm in him: he is a very good, 
religious young man, regular at church twice on Sunday, 
and a communicant, and he is quite superior looking. I 
got rid of him the day before yesterday by keeping Frances 
with me in walking home, but to-day I had to go, to Over- 
bury to change the books at the library, and choose some 
that will interest Amy. Just as I turned into the lane 
from the station in coming home I heard a bicycle coming 
swish! behind me, and there was Mr. Pierce jumping off it, 
walking along with it, wanting to carry my books, and at 
last, before I could shake him off, asking permission to 
pay his addresses to me. 

I told him that I begged he would do no such thing; 
and then he said that he knew he could not expect me to 
like him on so short an acquaintance, but what he wished 
was to be allowed to endeavor to recommend himself to me 
— all in the handsomest and properest manner. 

But I told him plainly that anything of the kind was out 
of the question, that my sister had had great troubles, and 
that I had resolved to devote my life to her and to my pro- 
fession, and that to pay his attentions to me would be the 
greatest injury he could possibly do me. He said he would 
be very discreet and guarded, and would be willing to wait 
any time; he even talked of providing for my sister, and 
her sharing my home when he gets promotion. But I 
told him to put all that out of his head, that there were 
reasons which I could not tell him; and I implored him to 
let me alone, for he can do me nothing but harm here in 
this gossiping place, and I am entirely resolved against 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 


77 


marriage. I know that entertaining any such thought is 
unsettling^ and interferes with one^s attention to one^s 
duties^ and I am determined not to admit it. I hope I 
made him believe me at last, and that he will not take it 
much to heart, poor young man. I had just come to the 
stile, and I was going to plod across the muddy, plowed 
fields by the path, as he could not follow me there with his 
bicycle, when he said: ^^ISTo, no. Miss Martin, I will not 
drive you to that and with a sort of good-bye he got 
upon his machine again, but was scarcely off before Miss 
Warne turned the corner of the road, driving her mother 
in a dog-cart, and I thought they looked very hard at me. 

I have said nothing to Amy; she would immediately call 
herself a burden, and think I had refused a good offer on 
her account, when it is not so. She is an additional rea- 
son, but I am not going to marry or engage myself after 
only two years ^ work, nor have I seen such a happy speci- 
men of wedlock as to be in haste to undertake it. I 
found, however, that I must write it all down, as I could 
not talk it out, so as to get it off my mind. I hope God 
will bless my decision, for I think it is the right one in my 
position. 

November 4. — The choral meeting went off very well, 
and there was nothing to attract notice. Indeed, people 
are more taken up with the return of the Miss Freewards, 
who came back last Wednesday. They have, it seems, 
always taken great interest in the parish, working with and 
under the great ladies at the park, and now supplying 
their place. Down they came to school the very first day, 
and had a long talk with Mrs. Bolton, their old friend in 


78 


OUK NEW MISTRESS," 


the infant school^ while my children became more and more 
excited;,^ and could scarcely do their knitting; and no 
sooner did the door begin to open than there was a jump- 
ing up, before I could give the signal, and a courtesying 
and smiling all over the place. The ladies spoke civilly 
to me, and then went from child to child, greeting all the 
Brookfield ones in turn, and asking after this one’s grand- 
mother and that one’s bad finger, as if they were delighted 
to be among them again, and cared for every one here. 

They seem to be about forty years old,, and they both 
have nice, kind, good faces, so much alike — in face, figure, 
and dress — that I asked Bertha afterward how I was ever 
to know them apart. She said Miss Preeward was the up- 
rightest, and had the most color, and always was — as she 
expressed it — the foreman of the two; and Miss Margaret 
had the quietest way. I could see little difference. They 
noticed that the Huckster children were neater, and then 
they asked more questions than any inspector does. They 
looked at all the needle-work, and praised or blamed as 
they thought fit, and had an immense deal to say about 
heels of stockings. Of course it disturbed the regular 
work a good deal to have them standing talking away 
there, and then they wanted the children to sing. It was 
‘ not far from breaking-up time, so that I did not mind be- 
ginning a little sooner, but I hope such interruptions are 
not to happen often. However, this was the first day, and 
I can see that the children are really fond of them. Noth- 
ing is so good for the manners and characters as a nice 
lady’s influence, so I will not grumble. 

November 11. — The ladies do haunt the school a good 


OUE NEW MISTEESS. 


79 


deal. Both teach on Sundays, and I have only to take the 
lowest class, and on Tuesday Miss Freeward questions the 
first class on the catechism. They are not very orderly 
with her, and fall into the slouching, whispering, fidgeting 
ways I hoped I had cured them of; and it worries me, 
though Amy laughs at me for minding, and says if I keep 
a tight hand at other times it can not hurt. 

Then scarcely a day passes without one or other popping 
in to send a message by some child, or to desire one to call 
for broth or jelly or something. I do not object so much 
in the afternoon, as it encourages the children to have their 
needle-work looked at, but it is a great interruption during 
lesson-time for them to be standing about, stooping over 
the copy-books, and listening to the reading, or even tell- 
ing me that such or such a girl has too hard a sum. If 
Miss Freeward were not a school manager here 1 think I 
would speak to Mr. Hardwicke about it. Yet, after all, 
their coming seems to make the children better mannered; 
Bertha puts aside her pert look, and Frances is brighter, 
so I suppose they do good; but it is. odd when they instruct 
and advise me, as if I had never seen a school before. 

I only wish they would let Amy alone. I found her quite 
in a fiutter, for she had had a long visit from both of them, 
and they had gone on just as the district ladies do at the 
poor women, asking all manner of questions, wanting to 
come and read to her, and to set her to do plain work for 
them. They seemed quite displeased when she declined, 
saying that she had employment. There was a bit of her 
embroidery lying on her book; it was A Noble Life;^^ 
and Amy says she hardly knew which they seemed to think 


80 


OUE NEW MISTEESS. 


the worst waste of time — idle reading, as they called it, or 
fancy work; for she was a great deal too much hurt and 
too angry in her quiet way to tell them that she worked for 
payment. She was so much upset that she cried, and had 
a bad headache all the evening. I don^t see what business 
they had to meddle with her occupations any more than 
she has with theirs, and I believe I was very short with 
Miss Freeward when she began to lecture me about rousing 
my sister to useful employments, and not letting her mope 
and fancy herself an invalid. Much does the lady know 
about Amy and her troubles, or what is good for her. I 
begin to think what Mr. Dyke says is true, that Miss Pree- 
ward must have a finger in every pie. 

However, I was glad of her at the practice, for every- 
body behaved as well as possible, and there was not an at- 
tempt at nonsense. It is our last, and we are to have at 
the concert a man that Mr. Warne has heard of, who re- 
cites and sings in the Oorney Grain style. Mr. Pierce was 
nofc there — a real comfort. He has practiced quite enough. 
The concert is to be on the 15th. 

November 18. — The concert has given me enough to 
think about. To my surprise the strange star, as Mr. 
Dyke calls him, turned out to be no other than F. M. old 
comrade, Joe Edwards! I remembered instantly how he 
used in the old days to keep us in fits of laughing by 
changing his voice and going on like a whole party con- 
versing together; and now it seems he has given up cabinet- 
making, and lives by his talent. Mrs. Pettitoes^ Tea 
Fight, as he called it, was very comical, if a little vulgar, 
and it put every one into such ecstasies of laughing that 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 


81 


there was no quieting down the lads again, but they 
stamped and bawled Bray-vo!^^ and Ang-core!^^ till we 
were nearly deaf and could hardly hear anything. They 
did not listen a bit to poor Mr. Piercers song; there was a 
cat-call, in the very midst of it, but somehow that annoy- 
ance lessened the awkwardness. 

I hoped Mr. Edwards would not recognize me, as I was 
a mere child when he saw me last; but when I stepped 
down from the platform after the ISTational Anthem, which 
no one could hear for the noise of those boys and the 
shuffling of feet, he held out his hand, and said, Miss 
Jessie, this is an unexpected pleasure. There were not 
many moments, for a trap was waiting to take him to meet 
the mail train at Overbury, but what he said was a great 
shock. 

^^Ah! that was a sad business about your poor sister, 
such a sweet pretty girl as she was. Did you know that 
scamp F. M. was in England? I saw him last week.'^'^ 

Then some one touched him on the arm and told him 
that the driver said he would be late for his train; and he 
was off before I had time to ask or say anything, or to beg 
him not to tell anything that could give that wretch a clew 
to our whereabouts. However, from the way he mentioned 
my sister I think he must suppose that she is dead. I 
trust that both he and F. may think so, and that would be 
a sufflcient protection; for even if he mentioned me, there 
could- hardly be any inducement to seek me out. Of 
course I have given Amy no hint, and this book, locked 
with the key on my watch-guard, is quite safe to tell my 
fears to. 


82 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 


I did tell her of Joe Edwards and his performance^ and 
it set her off talking of merry old times, at first laughing 
over them, and then crying till she became so much ex- 
cited that she did not sleep all night; nor did I, between 
watching her, trying from time to soothe her, and think- 
ing over the matter myself. 

It is as if all our peace and security were over, just as 
she was beginning to recover a little. Well, there is noth- 
ing for it but prayer. May God protect her from that 
wicked man. 


CHAPTEE XL 

A LETTER PROM LADY MARY BROOKE. 

Torquay, December 10. 

My DEAR Mr. Hardwicke, — I hope you will not 
think me very troublesome, but I am a good deal distressed 
at the accounts I hear from the Ereewards and Mrs. Bonny 
of the schoolmistress; and I can not think that you are 
aware of all that is going on. They quite agree with you 
that the children are in good order, and seem to be alto- 
gether more regular and well-disciplined than they were in 
dear old Mrs. Pearson^s days, since there can be no doubt 
that she was utterly unequal to the Euination immigra- 
tion, and I shall always believe that it caused her death. I 
suppose such an improvement is the natural consequence 
of having a thoroughly trained mistress. But outside the 
school, things seem to be very unsatisfactory. The mis- 
tress seems to have made no friends in the village, and to 


OUR ]^EW MISTRESS. 


83 


have given herself airs, rejecting all Betsy Bolton^s kind 
offers of assistance, and setting up little Kose Shepherd, if 
not Frances, against her. She is evidently not guarded 
in manners with young men. Then there seems to be a 
general impression of secret meetings with a disreputable- 
looking man, whom she calls her cousin, and who seems to 
be connected with those systematic poachers at Overbury. 
And she seemed to be on familiar terms with a man who 
spoilt the last village concert by a vulgar edition of Corney 
Grain. There is evidently something strange about the. 
sister who lives with her, so that the place is full of rumors 
and doubts whether this sister is or is not married. The 
Freewards called upon her, thought her inane and affected, 
very stiff and unpleasant with them, and she rejected all 
their offers of needle-work. Bonny says the Hewitts are 
quite distressed at Bertha^ s being under so unsatisfactory a 
person, and the Freewards think the girl far from im- 
proved; and I can not approve of the arrangement for 
Frances Best, nor, indeed, for the sake of the parish and 
school. I am sure you must have been deceived, and I 
hope you will inquire. 

Yours affectionately, 

^'Mary a. Brooke. 

FROM THE REVEREHI) CHARLES HARDWICKE. 

Brookfield Vicarage, December 12. 

My dear Mary, — I do not think you need be 
alarmed. I knew all about the Martins before they came, 
poor things, and a very sad story it is. They belonged to 
a respectable family at Bath; their father was an uphol- 


84 : 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 


sterer^s foreman^ and the elder sister one of the seam- 
stresses. Jessie Martin, our mistress, went through her 
course as pupil-teacher, and then to Fishponds, after 
which she worked with great success at my old friend 
Canon Leslie^’s school at Pirlee. It was he who recom- 
mended her to me. The father had died some time before, 
and the other sister, Amy, had been foolish enough to 
marry a cousin, fancying that she would reform him. I 
believe he had been brought up with her, and she had the 
devotion for him that you women will bestow on unworthy 
objects. She, poor thing, was incapable of keeping him 
straight; he drank and gambled away her share of her fa- 
therms savings, and, after a course of ill-usage and misery, 
ended by knocking her down with her baby in her arms at 
the head of the stairs. He was arrested on the spot, con- 
victed on evidence of fellow-lodgers, and, when his sen- 
tence was out, embarked for America with money raised 
from the sale of goods that had been left in charge of the 
landlady. The wife had been taken to the hospital with a 
broken leg and damaged spine; and the child, after linger- 
ing on just long enough to prevent its father from being 
tried for manslaughter, and to show that life meant im- 
becility, died of the effects of his brutality. Jessie Martin 
had determined to undertake the care and support of her 
sister; and, as it was very desirable that the wretched man 
should lose all traces of her, it was thought better that she 
should leave Pirlee, as being too near Bath and among 
those who knew the story and respected her. I am not 
sure that they were wise in this, but poor Amy Martin, 
who had been rather a beauty in her way, coming out of 


OUR KEW MISTRESS. 


85 


the hospital, crippled, bent, and desolate, had a morbid 
terror of being seen or addressed by any of her old ac- 
quaintance, and, indeed, absolutely insisted on removing 
where she should be a perfect stranger. With so common 
a name as Martin it seemed quite possible that here no one 
should have any suspicions, nor even, from what you say, 
do I think there were any. Perhaps it is unfortunate that 
she continued to shrink from all notice and society; and 
her sister, being necessarily absent from her all day, and 
very desirous of cheering her and keeping up her spirits, 
has thus been debarred from going out. I must say, too, 
that they are of a slightly superior class to the ordinary 
run of our village society, and good Betsy Bolton is far too 
homely to be a companion to Miss Martin with her train- 
ing-college culture and considerable mental power. 

Mrs. Martin is not quite her sister^s equal. I have seen 
a good deal of the poor thing, and find her a gentle, inno- 
cent-minded, broken-spirited creature, good and dutiful, 
and still caring for that wretchec^ man, as is the way of 
good women, far more than he could ever have deserved ; 
but, as far as I could understand, the fellow had won her 
affections by being her tyrant as her playfellow in her 
childhood, and she had married him contrary to all good 
advice. It is to her shrinking from observation that all 
the complaints of Miss Martinis unsociability are due. 
Unfortunately the ventriloquist, whose performance really 
had no harm in it, except making the lads ungovernably 
boisterous, had been once a workman in the upholstery es- 
tablishment at Bath, and mentioned the meeting to Fred- 
erick Martin, who had returned to England, and he came in 


86 


OXJR NEW MISTRESS. 


pursuit of Miss Martin to Overbury. Jessie absolutely re- 
fused to tell him where his wife was, and eluded his pur- 
suit, but gave him what money she could spare, and she 
kept silence when she came home. It was a great mistake 
not to have consulted me, as I could have taken some 
measures with him; but he was holding out to her that if 
he had this or that he would take himself off, and she had 
a natural reluctance to mentioning the subject, and espe- 
cially dreaded her sister^s hearing of his being in the neigh- 
borhood. 

I can not justify her here, but I suppose it was only 
natural. However, it is all over now. The man, as was in- 
evitable, must have traced her out, and the day before yes- 
terday, the very day you wrote to me, when she came home 
from school she found her sister gone, leaving a note say- 
ing that her Fred (poor foolish 'thing) had found her 
out, and had promised that all should be forgotten and for- 
given (!!!), adding that it was her clear duty to be with 
him; he had found an « excellent situation, had taken the 
pledge, and all would be well. She was sure it was better 
for her dear Jessie not to have a painful parting, and they 
would love each other all the same, etc. Jessie would get 
on much better without her, for she felt that a poor 
broken-down creature only did harm. 

This is true enough, but poor Miss Martin rushed to 
me in despair, quite sure that the man would end by kill- 
ing her sister, and wanting to know if they could not be 
pursued. Of course this was only the first wild feeling, for 
there was no indication whither they were gone; and even 
if there had been, we could not take away his wife unless 


OUK ITEW MISTEESS. 


sr 

she had been willing to swear to the injury he had done her. 
Miss Martin is a sensible girb and saw presently that 
there is nothing for her but to wait and go on with her 
work;, hoping for the-best^ and she is trying to do so brave- 
ly, but she is sadly crushed. I have just seen her, and she 
speaks most warmly of Mrs. Bolton^s kindness, and no doubt 
all Betsy^s good feeling would be brought out. Thus I 
hope you are convinced that there is really no scandal, nor 
occasion for all this gossip. The whole affair is known 
now, and I should hope that whoever has set about spite- 
ful reports may repent. I have seen the Preewards, and I 
hope I have convinced them. Miss Martin is an admirable 
mistress; not only the children but the pupil -teachers are 
much improved. Bertha Hewitt is an uppish girl who 
kicks against discipline, but even she is less pert and con- 
ceited, and Frances Best is more alive and little Eose more 
attentive. I can see no reason why we should deprive the 
parish of an excellent school-mistress, or persecute a good 
young woman because of her strong and devoted affection 
for a sister with a scamp of a husband. If you were here 
you would see it in that light. 

My dear Mary, yours affectionately, 

C. Haedwicke. 

LADY MAEY BEOOKE^S AKSWEE. 

December 15. 

My deae Me. Haedwicke,—! am very sorry to 
differ from you, and so is Brookfield. I am sure we should 
be very sorry to persecute any one, but our first duty is to 
the parish; and if this Miss Martin is such an excellent 


88 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 


mistress she can have no difficulty in getting another situa- 
tion. Surely she would be much better in London, where 
no particular heed would be taken of her connections, and 
she would have the protection of living in lodgings. It 
can be hardly safe for a young girl to live in that lonely 
cottage, when a wretch like that might attack her at any 
time. Caroline Preeward has written to me, and she feels 
just as I do, that though we may greatly pity the poor 
young woman, it is not well for the sake of the parish to 
retain her. The sister and the husband may return and 
fasten upon her at any time, and think what that would 
be! Brookfield would not hear of such a possibility. 

I suppose the ability and good discipline are to be found 
in any trained mistress, and there might easily be more 
friendliness, and such infiuence as was so valuable in dear 
Mrs. Pearson. Caroline tells me that many of the parents 
are complaining of her strictness, and the overpressure 
which is such a fatal thing to children. 

Brookfield means to run down a day or two after 
Christmas. I think you and he and Eodney and Caroline 
Preeward are school managers, so, if we decided according- 
ly, due notice might be given at once. I trust we are not 
unkind, and I do not like to go against your judgment, 
but it is plain that there is a want of straightforwardness, 
and Brookfield says a school-mistress with such connections 
can not be tolerated. 

Yours affectionately, 

M. A. B. 

P. S. — CanT she go to a colony? she would be very 
vaulable there, and make her fortune. 


OUB KEW MISTBESS. 


89 


FBOM THE BEY. C. HABDWICKE. 

December 18. 

My deab Maby^ — I wish you had been at home. If 
you school managers outvote me, of course I can not help 
it, but I am very sorry, and I give you warning that I shall 
do my best with your brother and Miss Preeward, and there 
may be some change of purpose. 

Yours affectionately, 

C. Habdwicke. 


CHAPTEE XII. 

LOG-BOOK. — GOKE ! 

Decembeb 23. — I have not had the spirit to write; be- 
sides that I was in dread of setting anything down for fear 
of Amy^s seeing it; but, alas! all that is over now, and it 
is a certain relief even to tell my faithful book about it. 
Mr. Hardwicke wishes I had told him. Perhaps I ought, 
but I durst not speak, and I do not know whether I did 
wrong or not. 

Mr. Edwards had betrayed us, though perhaps I should 
not use that word, for he had no reason to think that I 
wished for concealment. On the second Saturday after 
that unlucky concert, when I went to Overbury to do some 
commissions and change the books, the first person I saw 
when I reached the platform to come home again was Fred 
Martin. We knew each other directly. He is not much 
altered : he had smart clothes, as far as I could see under 
his ulster, but there is a more rowdy look about him than 


90 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 


there used to be. Welb little Jess/^ he said, I thought 
I would run down and have a look at you, hearing you 
were in this part. Quite the lady, eh? What^s the name 
of your place, and how do you get there?^^ It seems that 
Mr. Edwards had given him the address on a slip of pa- 
per, but he had lost it, happily as I then thought, and was 
trying to find it out, but I doubt whether any one knows 
me at Overbury except the library people. I did not tell 
him, and greatly advised him not to come, at which he 
laughed, and said he supposed he should be a startling 
visitor for the school marm; but since he had had the 
pleasure of seeing his sweet little sister-in-law, who, after 
all didn^t seem much delighted to welcome him, he would 
not trouble her, only he must have something to help a 
poor fellow. There was a capital situation open to him as 
stage carpenter, and part owner of some kind of panorama 
show, only he must have lOZ. to put into it, and he thought 
I might find that for him for old kinship’s sake and poor 
Amy’s. I was so angry at his making her a plea that I 
exclaimed that I could not think how he, of all people, 
dared to bring up her name; to which he answered with 
his horrid grin that if not, may be the school marm might 
have a guest who would make her parson and old woman 
stare. If I had been alone, I would have dared all the 
scandal; and, indeed, he could not have done me much 
harm if all could have been explained; but for him to 
come and find Amy and drag her away to be her death was 
not to be thought of, speaking in a hurry with the train 
just stopping. So as I had enough in the savings bank of 
my own to buy him off without her knowledge, I agreed to 


OUE NEW MISTEESS. 


91 


send him the lOl, ; only he would not give me any address, 
as he is moving about and can not tell where he may be 
from week to week; but as of course ‘I need time to pro- 
cure the money, he was to send to or call at the Overbury 
post office for a letter addressed to him there. By that 
time the train was almost starting, and I jumped into a 
carriage, hut he caught me on the step, and said, By the 
bye, when did Amy die?^^ 

^^Much you care,^^ I said, and was thankful that a 
whole stream of people came crowding and separated us; 
but when I got out at Huckster's Pool Mrs. Bolton did so 
too, and the first thing she did was to ask to whom I was 
talking. To a cousin, I said, whom I had not seen 
for a long time. 

It was only the truth, and I thought with comfort of 
^Amy^s shutting herself up so as to hear nothing of the 
gossip of the village. I might have done more wisely, per- 
haps more rightly, to have gone at once to the vicar; but I 
was afraid of every word I said, and I dreaded any one^s 
knowing that a man was about, and above all that Mr. 
Hardwicke might insist on Amy^s heariug, and tell me 
that I had no right to keep man and wife asunder. Be- 
sides, I thought that when Fred had got the money he 
would be satisfied, and I should hear no more of him for a 
long time. 

No such thing. When I was on my way to the post 
office about the money, there he stood in the street. He 
took it from me as if I were paying him his wages, and 
then began to question me about Amy, so that without a 
falsehood I could not keep from him that she was alive; 


92 


OUK KEW MISTKESS. 


but I took care to let him know that she was quite a crip- 
ple^ had lost the good looks he cared for, and was in 
broken health, hoping that such a description would pre- 
vent him from having any wish to be troubled with her. 
He asked where she was, to which I flatly replied that I 
was not going to tell him on any account. He laughed a 
little, and said that was little Jessie^s own temper; but I 
need not be afraid: a crisp ten-pounder was a handier 
thing to drag about than a puling woman. 

So I hoped that I was rid of him, but by way of pre- 
caution I went into one of those great store shops where 
they sell all sorts of things, and which I knew had an en- 
trance into another street. I went out by that door, and 
walked all the way home, that he might not meet me on 
the platform again. 

I came home of course late, wet and dirty. Amy 
thoughf I had missed my train, and I let her suppose so, 
while, dear thing, she petted and cosseted me, and changed 
my boots, and gave me hot tea, always treating me as her 
little young sister, whom she has to take care of — (a tear 
blot). It won^t do to think of, and I thought all the 
danger was past for the present, and began to take heart 
again. 

The vicar says if I had told him he would have seen 
Fred and tried to make terms; and that, after what had 
passed, Amy could have been protected by the law against 
him. But I doubt whether she would ever have consented, 
for every now and then I saw how much she cared for him, 
and once I caught her crying and kissing his photo- 
graph. 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 


93 


I would as soon have kissed a viper^s; but then he never 
did anything to me but bullying and teasing, and he did 
make love to her — such love! To have seen that is enough 
to prevent a girl from ever putting faith in any man. 

Another fortnight went on. Amy said once or twice that 
I was restless and uneasy, and she could not tell what was 
the matter with me. Was I keeping anything from her? 
I said, What should I be keeping from her?^^ Then she 
was sure something had happened to Fred, and she worked 
herself into a fright and agony lest I should have heard he 
was dead or ill, and be concealing it. I could truly say 
that I had heard nothing of the sort; I could almost have 
said I wished 1 had. May I be forgiven, for though I said 
nothing untrue, I did let her think I was worried about 
some foolish, grumbling parent, as indeed was the fact. 
Then, somehow, through Mrs. Dyke, I believe, Amy found 
out about Mr. Pierce, and was sure I only rejected him on 
her account; and say what I would, she cried and declared 
that she would not have me give up my prospects for her, 
and that she was a burden, only doing me harm and making 
people look with suspicion upon me. Again and again I 
declared that I did not care one rush for Mr. Pierce, and 
that it was my school I was wedded to; while she, my own 
dearest, was all I had to love with my whole heart, my 
home, my happiness, my everything. She seemed to be- 
lieve it for a time, but several times when I came in on 
those dark November evenings I found her sitting moping 
over the fire, fretting, and beginning it all over again, 
sometimes wondering about her poor dear Fred, and if it 
was very cold where he was. That I could not bear — ^not 


94 


OTJE KEW MISTEESS. 


only to have her pining after that fellow, but for her to 
make me feel myself deceiving her. 

I grew cross — perhaps it was from my bad conscience — 
and spoke sharply to her for being so weak and silly as to 
moan after a man like that, who had well-nigh been the 
death of her as well as of her poor baby. Then she rose 
up quite hot and angry, and said that was not the way to 
speak to a wife of her husband. 

Such a husband I said, but she turned away and 
crept upstairs. We did make it up again when I came up 
to say my prayers, and we kissed and went to sleep, hold- 
ing each other^s hand, or I think my heart would be 
broken, for oh! that was the way we spent our last even- 
ing together! If I had only known it! 

!f'or when I came home the next evening she was gone! 
Dear thing! the hearth was made up, the kettle by it, the 
tea-things put out — as if I could eat or drink with her 
gone; and there was this little note on the table: 

Deaeest Sistee, — Do not be angry or vexed with 
your poor Amy. He has come for me, and there is no 
time to let you know, and we could not bear the parting. 
He is so dear, he is in an excellent situation, and he has 
taken the pledge, and he says I can help him, and all is 
forgiven and forgotten, and it is my duty; so do not 
grieve, dearest, dearest Jessie. You will get on better 
without your poor loving Amy. 

Thank you with all my heart. I will write when — 

That scratch with which it ended showed how he must 
have hurried her off. She would never have gone without 


OrR KEW MISTRESS. 


95 


a word to me if that man had not made her. I was half 
wild. I started at first to run to the station to see if I 
could find her there to — I don^t know what; but before I 
got far I heard Mr. Hardwicke^s voice saying, ‘"Miss 
Martin, what^s the matter? Is any one hurt?^^ 

Then I told him, as he had always known Amy^s history 
from the first. He was very kind, but he held me back, 
and showed me that it was of no use to rush after her to 
the station, for they must have gone at least an hour be- 
fore by the only up-train that stopped there in the after- 
noon. Besides, what could I do? Only irritate Fred, and 
that would be worse for her. He was in his rights, and 
we can do nothing, at any rate till we hear from her. 

And after all, since she does love the man so much in 
spite of all, may she not be better and happier than even 
with me? Ob no, I can not believe that! He is not 
changed; I could see that. It will be all misery; and he 
will kill her by inches if he does not kill her outright. 
Oh! my Amy, my sweet, tender Amy, that she should be 
in such hands! 

The vicar was very good to me. He wanted me to stay 
at the vicarage that evening, but I could not bear the 
notion of being with even his kind old housejieeper; it was 
worse than even my empty house. 

I got through school as I could, and it did me good on 
the whole to be forced to attend to something. Luckily, 
Miss Freeward had a bad cold, and Mrs. Bolton was good- 
ness itself to me. I can not think how I ever thought her 
cross and jealous. The vicar explained all to her, for she 
wanted to help me in school and send Bertha to the in- 


96 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 


fants; but the lessons did me good, only my eyes swam and 
I could not see the needle-work, so I was very grateful for 
her help then. Then she came home with me, and took 
care of me when I grew faint after crying all night and 
eating nothing all day. She stayed all the evening, only 
running home to put the little ones to bed and offering 
Frances to sleep with me, but there was no need for that. 
When one is worn out, even with trouble, sleep does come, 
and I have been up to my work ever since, even to teach- 
ing the carols that were begun so joyously. It is not so 
bad among my children; they are dear little girls, and 
seem to be sorry for me, they have given so little trouble; 
but this holiday-time is terrible work. We had planned 
so much to be done together, and there is no letter. 'No 
doubt my poor dear is not allowed to write, and I do not 
know where she is, nor what sort of Christmas she will 
have. 

I can only pray for her. 

Mrs. Bolton has found out how he tracked me. He 
watched me into the shop, and, as I now remember, I met 
Bertha and Eose coming out of it; and as he saw that they 
knew me, of course it was easy to learn from their chatter 
— or Eose’s, for Bertha declared she had nothing to do 
with it, but that Eose fancied he was some great hero in 
disguise seeking us. Foolish Eose! but most likely he 
would have found us out anyhow. I was a poor ostrich 
hiding her head in a bush. 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 


97 


CHAPTER XIII. 

LOG-BOOK. — JESSIE^S CHRISTMAS. 

December 26 {St Stephen’s-day ). — No letter, no news 
of my poor Amy, unless it is this Christmas card; but that 
has only a London post-mark. No doubt Fred will not 
let her write, though Mr. Hardwicke says they are sure to 
do so if they want money. Mr. Edwards said Fred had 
become a sort of stage carpenter to a panorama, and that 
they met now and then at public places; but Joe is a wan- 
derer himself, or Mr. Hardwicke would write to him. No 
one can describe the kindness of friends to me; I see who 
are real friends now. 

The Dykes are gone to spend Christmas with a brother 
of hers, taking the baby but leaving Bertie with me; and 
the dear little man is a great comfort and pleasure, even 
when he looks up with his great blue eyes and says: 

Mamy gone away,^^ or ‘^Bertie want Mamy,^^ ^^Poor 
Mamy,^^ for it shows how much love for her there is in his 
dear little heart. 

I should like to have spent Christmas with no other 
company, or at least with only Mrs. Bolton, for the day is 
saddened to her, for it is her first Christmas without her 
good old mother; and, besides, it was just in that week 
that her husband was killed four years ago. But ever 
since she can remember she has always spent Christmas- 
day at the Miss Freewards^ or their mother^s before them, 
and has taken her little ones and Frances of course. 

Mr. Hardwicke asked me to dine with Mrs. Wilkins, his 

4 


98 


OUR KEW MISTRESS. 


housekeeper, and to bring Bertie. She is a nice, quiet 
body, who never asks more questions than she can help. 

Why, my dear,^"" 1 have heard her say,»^Mf 1 was to 
begin listening to tales I should never have done, nor never 
know the rights and wrongs of nobody.'’^ So I did not 
mind her, and there was nobody else but Mr. Stubbins, the 
old clerk, whose wife and family are all dead, or gone from 
him. I hope I have not been out of temper with the chil- 
dren or the teachers, though Bertha is provoking some- 
times, and has been very impertinent once. I don^t sup- 
pose I can have been very unkind, for only think (I should 
have had no heart to trouble about holly and such things; 
indeed, they seemed out of place in such a sorrowful 
house); but when I came home from a little shopping at 
Overbury on Christmas-eve there were red berries peeping 
through the windows, and all the room seemed to have 
burst out into leaf, sprays behind all the picture-frames, 
and the statuettes on the mantel-piece in perfect bowers! 
It was poor little Eosie^s doing with the help of Annie 
Knowles. Dear child, since she has found out the harm 
her chattering tongue did she has been quite devoted to 
me, and there seems to be nothing she would not do for 
me. I suppose it will be a lesson to her for life; only 
would that it had come in some other way! 

None of those teachers are confirmed; they are begin- 
ning their preparation; so on Christmas-morning Prances 
was left in charge; I wrapped Bertie up and carried him to 
the school-house to be with her, while Mrs. Bolton and I 
went to the early communion. I wish I could hope that I 
met my poor Amy in spirit there, but most likely she 


OUE NEW MISTEESS. 


99 


could not manage it, and her husband was not likely to let 
her go. At any rate, though, her heart would hold 
spiritual communion with the Lord, who knows her griefs. 
One comfort is that she is far more serious-minded, now 
than when she first married. There was always great gen- 
tleness and innocence about her; but she was willful in her 
own soft, quiet way (or she would not have married Fred), 
and she never seemed to think much about religion, except 
as something mixed up with hymns and flowers and music 
and pretty, touching stories. But since her troubles she 
has been very different; she has learned where to look for 
comfort and assistance; and who knows but that, as Mr. 
Hardwicke says, she may do her husband good? There is 
the more hope since she took away her Bible and Prayer 
Book, and all the good little books they gave her at the 
Convalescent Home, though she left mother^s work-case, 
which she was so fond of, and which has some really valu- 
able things in it, such as 'my prize gold thimble. She 
could not have told Fred, for he has carried off the three 
silver tea-spoons, which were all we had left of what 
mother’s master gave her at her wedding. I could not 
tell the vicar of that, but it takes away my hopes of him — 
unless, indeed, he did not know they were mine, not hers. 

When we got home from church, there were the chil- 
dren to dress, and lots of things to look at. My old college 
mates have sent me so many cards and letters and little 
gifts that I am ashamed to have had no spirit to write to 
them; and there were full twenty presents and cards from 
my dear little pupils here. Eose’s is a very pretty pen- 
wiper of her own making, and a lovely card with an old 


100 


OUR KEW MISTRESS. 


castle on it. It is very nice that these children are begin- 
ning to be fond of me; they must be all my care and 
thought now, and they are, many of them, really good 
children, even Louie Lamb, who sends a very bent-looking 
card in a dirty envelope with a great blot, and From 
your afex — loving skolla, Louisa Lamb on it. 

We took all our three little ones to church, where they 
were very good. Jemmie and Bessie knew all the Bethle- 
hem story nicely, and can sing Once in David^s royal 
city,^^ and Bertie tried to sing along with them. The 
church is beautiful with holly and flowers in pots from the 
conservatory at the park. The Miss Freewards and Miss 
Warne with Bertha and Frances were about it all the day 
before yesterday. I should have been glad to help, but 
they did not ask me, and they might have thought it for- 
ward in me to offer. The service was very beautiful, and 
the singing raised one^s heart; and the sermon, on good- 
will to men,’^ was as cheering'^as if the vicar had meant it 
on purpose for me. 

Bertie and I went back from church to the vicarage with 
the little maid, who made very much of him, and so did 
Mrs. Wilkins. By and by came Mr. Stubbins, and then 
the vicar looked in and said he wished us all Christmas 
blessings — he was very kind and delicate not to say a 
merry Christmas — and then he said grace for us, and went 
off to Miss Freeward^s, where he always goes on Christmas- 
day. 

Mr. Stubbins told us all about old times before Mr. 
Freeward was vicar, when there were no ladies, as he said, 
a-meddhng and a-muddling about the church with their 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 


101 


flowers and trash, and nobody ever thought of breaking 
into the service, but the clerk^s voice sounded out hearty 
and all alone, and the singers had a gathering all to them- 
selves, and came out with the tunes something like, with a 
bassoon and a clarionet, and a bass viol and too fiddles to 
help them, and Aaron Long to sing the solys, except 
when he^d had a drop the night before at the Brookfield 
Arms, for you never could reckon on him. There was no 
teetotal SQcieties then,^^ and he looked contemptuously at 
my glass of water while he enjoyed his Christmas ale. 
Mrs. Wilkins says he is as sober a man as ever lived, and 
she believes he always was, but he does not allow that any 
of the changes are for the better, and shakes his head and 
says: Aye, aye, ^tis all very fine, but human natur is 

human natur, and if it don^t break out in one place it will 
in another. 

And that^s true enough. Master Stubbins,^^ said the 
housekeeper; ^‘there^s nothing for it but the grace of 
God.^^ 

Then she put him into her easy-chair, with his blue 
pocket-handkerchief on the top of his head, to go to sleep; 
and Bertie and I helped her wash the dishes till Bertie was 
sleepy too, and we sat down, and I said hymns to Mrs. 
Wilkins in a low voice till it was time to get tea, after 
which the vicar came home, and some of the boys came 
carol-singing. Then Mr. Stubbins set off to light the 
church for evening service, and we left Bertie with the girl 
while we went again to a joyous evening service, almost all 
carols, and so it was a brighter feast-day than I dared to 
expect. 


102 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 


January 1. — Mr. and Mrs. Dyke are come home, and 
it was pretty to see Bertie spread out his arms and trot up 
to them, quite gasping with joy to see dada, mamma, and 
baby again. Mr. Dyke seems to have changed his mind a 
good deal on his trip. His brother-in-law has a Board 
school in a new place of cheap houses, where the clergy- 
man has nothing to do with it, and nobody takes any in- 
terest in the children except to keep down the expenses 
and keep up the grant. It is just what Mr. Dyke was 
wishing, not to be interfered with; but he says that he 
could scarcely put his head out-of-doors without being hor- 
rified and disgusted at the conduct and language of the 
children, both girls and boys. His brother-in-law, Mr. 
Groves, said there was no helping it; they cared for noth- 
ing he could do to them, for if he struck them their par- 
ents prosecuted for an assault, and, after being fined twice, 
he should try no more of that. Mr. Dyke said he never 
had to strike a boy once in a quarter, and Mr. Groves 
asked what he gave blows for. Well, he said, once he 
fiogged a boy for a theft followed by lying, and several 
times he had given a stripe or two to stop bad language 
in a new-comer or for bullying or cruelty. Mr. Groves 
laughed, and said at that rate he would never give his arm 
any rest here. These children were reduced to order in 
school, except for an outbreak now and then, but in the 
play-ground or the street it was of no use to think about 
them. Then he went on to say how disheartening and de- 
pressing it was to have no one to give him a word of sym- 
pathy or interest, to care whether the children got on, or 
to show them good manners, give them harmless pleasures. 


OUR KEW 3IISTRESS. 


103 


or lend them interesting books. As to religious instruc- 
tion, he does what he (5an, but the pupil-teachers think it a 
bore, and the children come too late for it half their time, 
and the worse sort of boys are apt to make jokes and re- 
peat what they have picked out of the wicked Sunday 
papers their fathers take in ; and there are he and his deli- 
cate young wife alone in the midst of all this evil. 

'No/^ said Mr. Dyke; my boys may be loutish and 
backward, idle sometimes and noisy, but they are, take 
them altogether, mostly simple - hearted, honest little 
chaps, clean-tongued and willing; and if a rougher lad 
comes in from Euination, they lick him into shape better 
than I can do. They know how to behave themselves, and 
they do. Why, I heard more foul language while walking 
ten yards from the house with Groves, than I have heard 
in all th6 three years I have spent here. My boys are not 
angels, but they are as far from those neglected lads as 
light from darkness. I have thought there was too much 
for my taste of the clerical and lady element, as the paper 
says, but any amount is better than none at all.^^ 

And Mrs. Dyke said she was glad he knew when he was 
well off, and she believed that, if her brother did not 
change his situation soon, his poor wife would be quite 
worn out by those rude girls, though she only taught them 
sewing. 

Then came in Mr. Pierce, just returned from his holiday 
at home. His father is a florist, and he had brought a 
lovely bouquet of camellias and ferns for me. I could not 
refuse it, but I did divide it with Mrs. Dyke. I see he 
thinks there may be more hope for him now, but I must 


104 


OUK NEW MISTRESS. 


let him perceive by my manner there is not. It is very 
generous in him, but no one is to be put in Amy^s place, 
and I must have my little house ready for her at any time 
when my poor dove may flutter home wounded to me! I 
can^t be taken up with a man to hinder me from taking 
care of her. Besides, I always resolved to work for flve 
years; nor do I believe he is well enough ofl to marry yet, 
most certainly not to have Amy on his hands. 

Eose Shepherd is coming to sleep with me. Mr. Hard- 
wicke advised it, and her parents are glad she should be 
saved the winter walk in all weathers. They think her im- 
proved, and, poor child, she is bitterly grieved at the mis- 
chief her chatter has done, and is very nice and loving. I 
mean to get her out of her taste for silly reading, and put 
something better in her way. 

Then there is the inspection coming. Time will be full 
enough, if that could stop the ache in one^s heart. But 
there are prayer and hope, and there are many really dear 
children whom i heartily love, and others who are im- 
proving. 


CHAPTEE XIV. 

BERTHA^S NARRATIVE. — TEA-TABLE TALK. 

It came out, of course, that Mrs. Martinis husband was 
a horrid wicked man, who had been in jail for nearly kill- 
ing her. Eeally I donT think people talked of much else 
at all the parties. Miss Lucas said her ladies were very 
much annoyed at such a connection having been brought 
into the parish, and that they were going to write to Lady 


OUR l^EW MISTRESS. 


106 


Mary about it. Susan Elcock said she had seen them go- 
ing by together on the way to the station, and that he was 
a fine tall figure of a man, and she was but a little bit of a 
thing hobbling along by his side, and he as careful of her 
as possible. Then they said no doubt she was a little 
aggravating thing, and the fault in such cases was always 
the woman^s; no wonder she was ashamed to show her face 
after having got her husband into prison. Mrs. Bryce was 
very angry too, and declared that the girls should go to 
school at Overbury, till she found how much it would cost 
to send them in by train every day, and still more to board 
them there. 

But Mrs. Bolton had quite gone over to the other side, 
and said Miss Martin had acted like the best of sisters, and 
that if poor Mrs. Amy was married to a wicked man, it 
wasnT her part to run about telling everybody. And 
Frances and Kose were just as bad. Rose said he was a 
fiend in human shape, though she had once taken him for 
the grand count or baronet, or something, in disguise, 
come to bring them to their fortune. Arthur Norton 
found it out, and used to tease her about it till he made 
her cry. She had got so fond of both of them, and 
Frances was so sorry that they never would allow that Miss 
Martin had grown horribly cross and strict; but then they 
were favorites— at least Rose was, coming to sleep with her 
at night, and I was sure she pitied me. She did worry so 
if the children miscalled ever so little a word that a baby 
could read, such as if for it, or if they wrote his instead of 
is; and said it showed great carelessness and inattention on 
the teacher’s part — just as if it were my fault instead of 


106 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 


that of the stupid little things, or as if such nonsensical 
bits of words were of any consequence. 

She said a great deal about prepositions making all the 
difference, when we were at our lessons afterward, but she 
had no business to bring it up again then, so I would not 
attend to her. It did seem a real shame to go on at me, 
when I always could do everything ever so much better 
than either of the other two! She made us do our lessons 
in her own house, which certainly was made very nice for 
such a poky place, but she was horribly tiresome over 
them, making us look out every stupid place in the map, 
and teasing about subjects and objects in our analysis, and 
telling the reasons of everything we did in our sums, and 
even wanting us to care about the people in our history. 
Eose did, I believe, though Arthur declared she only pre- 
tended to do so, to get favor, and said it was mean; for no- 
body could care about a tiresome old chap like Sir Philip 
Sidney, who had been dead three hundred years, and whose 
glass of water was in the second standard books. 

Frances was very near crying about those adverbs and 
prepositions, when the word is so nasty as to change from 
one to the other. At first she almost had believed Miss 
Martin made her out wrong on purpose to tease her; but 
she had changed now, though she never could get hold of 
the rights of it; and the reasons of rules in arithmetic were 
worse to her, but Miss Martin always was tender to her 
puzzles; and that wasn^t fair, for I always did my sums 
right, and could understand all about them when I laid my 
mind to it, only it really was too much bother to be set to 
tell how and why, when I had done it by a sort of knack 


OUR KEW MISTRESS. 


107 


that I have; and I was tired of hearing Miss Martin say 
that unless I could explain I should never be fit to be a 
mistress. 

Then there was a dreadful row on St. Thomas^s-day be- 
cause Arthur looked across the church and smiled at me, 
when Mr. Pierce watched her all up the aisle, as we all 
came in with the school-girls, for we were sure it could only 
be after her that he came on saints^ days. And then, 
again, Arthur looked at me when old Miss Creeper came 
in, for she had got on the old fur tippet that he always 
said was made of the skin of a mangy old stable cat fifty 
years ago. When I caught his eye I could not help laugh- 
ing, and then the organ ciphered in the middle of a hymn, 
and he made such a face that it set me off so that I had to 
hold my pocket-handkerchief up to my face. 

Arthur had it in the vestry, Mr. Dyke at him first and 
then the vicar; and they said such things that he was ready 
to ask his father to let him give up his apprenticeship, for 
he had been engaged to teach the boys, not to be jawed for 
doing no harm in church, but only smiling to himself, and 
only a week day, too! 

As to me, I got it all round. First there was Miss Mar- 
tin; but 1 had an answer for her, and said, People had 
better not give occasion and I looked her in the face so 
that she got quite red and she must have known what I 
meant; and I could hear a quiver in her voice, though she 
made it quite grave as she said: “ There can be no occa- 
sion that can excuse such disrespect to the place you were 
in."" 

And then came the vicar, very sharp indeed about un- 


108 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 


maidenly giggling and irreverence, telling me that a girl 
who behaved like that was not fit to be set in authority over 
others. I could not answer him, of course; but the Miss 
Freewards both set upon me next. Miss Margaret wanting, in 
her soft, gentle, cooing way to know what could make me 
capable of such levity, as she called it. Well, ma^am, it 
was Mr. Pierce and Miss Martin. 

It was a shame of me, and I wished afterward I had said 
something about their having done nothing, but I couldnH 
get it in, and it was fun to see how she gave a deep long 
sigh, and went on about however my elders might unfort- 
unately become the cause of foolish remarks, young people 
ought not to think about such things, and it was irreverent 
at church, and forgetting where one was, and carrying on 
with boys. I did not say a word about the old fur tippet, 
for she would have had no mercy on our making a mock 
of that, though she would not have minded the organ so 
much. I know it was very wrong altogether, and I have 
been sorry since, but I was quite glad then to have scored 
something against Miss Martin, who had worried me so 
much all these last weeks. 

The ladies did not ask her to help to decorate the church, 
and we were sure they meant something by it. I never 
saw the ladies so watchful about our whispering a word to 
one another all the time, though Arthur was not there, be- 
ing gone home for his holidays. His father is in the hard- 
ware business, and I was asked to go there for a change to 
stay with his sister Harriet. 

Father said he. could not let me go before Christmas-day; 
indeed, I donH think he much liked my going at all; but 


OUK KEW MISTKESS. 


109 


mother said I was looking pale^ and that that governess did 
•work me ever so much too hard^ so that I ought to have a 
little pleasure. So they let me go for the rest of the week 
after Christmas-day, and we had a pleasant time of it. 
One night we went to a concert, and there were parties every 
day, and such fun that Hartie and I made a plan that I 
should come and lodge there and learn millinery; and we 
thought father and mother would consent, since every one 
was saying how bad it was for us pupil- teachers to be un- 
der such a mistress as Miss Martin. But I don^t want to 
go on about that visit, it has all grown so sad to me now; 
but Hartie was a good girl, she always said her prayers, 
and went to church, and to her G.F.S. Bible class, and was 
quite steady, though some folks called her noisy, and she 
was much more in the fashion than they ever let'US be at 
home. It did seem very dull to come back to the old round of 
reading out dictation: Dogs are — very faithful — comma,, 
and love — their. masters — full stop after masters. Capital 
letter. Once a — and so on^ and marking the same blun~ 
ders over and over again; but father would not hear of my 
giving up. He said he had no notion of people being change- 
able; he had signed papers for me, and I was to go on with 
it; while as to Miss Martinis not being a nice person to be 
with, the vicar and the ladies would see to that. Mother 
said it was not to the mistress, but to the managers that I 
was bound, and if all she heard was true there might be a 
change before long. Miss Lucas told her that Miss Free- 
ward had written to Lady Mary, and his lordship was com- 
ing down on the 4th, and then no doubt something would 
be done. 


110 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 


Nothing had been heard of Mrs. Martin, as they called 
her now, all this time, except that Harriet Norton had 
told me that her friend, whose young man was the driver 
that took the funny gentleman who did Mrs. Pettitoes^ 
tea-fight, told her that he told him that he told her — oh, 
dear! I mean the Pettitoes man said to the driver that Miss 
Martinis sister had been quite the belle of their circle at 
Bath, but that she had married a regular drunken rascal, 
who was the murderer of her child and had been sentenced 
to penal servitude. So he must have come out with a 
ticket-of -leave, and now he was going about with a set of 
strolling showmen, like Punch and Judy. 

Arthur declared that his sister only said not much bet- 
ter than Punch and Judy,^^ and that the words were as 
good as killed the child;^"" but that was after Mr. Dyke, 
who always was on Miss Martinis side, had been at him 
for spreading what he called slanderous reports about an 
innocent woman. Arthur said it wasn^t himself but I that 
had done so, and I am sure I had told nobody but mother; 
and if she told Miss Lucas and Susan Elcock, I couldnH 
help it. 

Any way, it was all over the place that Mrs. Mar- 
tin had gone off with a Punch and Judy show, and some of 
the rough lads at Kuination were vulgar enough to squeak 
like Punch when Miss Martin was going by; but I don^t 
believe she knew why it was, for governess Betsy made 
Frances and Eose promise never to tell her. And when 
Mr. Pierce heard it he went at the lads with his horse-whip, 
so that they all ran away; and though big Jem Jones hal- 
looed out that he would have him up for an assault, he did 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 


Ill 


not venture^ having run away before he got more than one 
stripe. 


CHAPTEE XV. 

BERTHA'^S narrative. — HIS LORDSHIP. 

They all were at me, and said it was our doing, so I 
want to tell you exactly how it was. I own that I was put 
out, for when the class list of the diocesan religious ex- 
amination of pupil-teachers came out, and I was well up in 
the first class, while Frances was only in the second, and 
Bose and Arthur in the third, it did not seem a bit to 
please people, but only to set them to scold me. There 
was the vicar telling Frances that she had been a good girl, 
and he saw she had taken great pains; and Eose that she 
was improving; while to me he only chose to say that I had 
good abilities, but that he hoped I should lay to heart those 
words, If ye know these things, happy are ye if ye do 
them;^'’ and that I must remember that there were higher 
things than prizes and the praise of men. I am sure I did 
not get much of that, for Miss Martin said something about 
wishing I would carry out what I knew so well. And then 
came Miss Free ward: she was glad I had got the prize, but 
she would have been more glad if she could have seen more 
reverence and less levity about me; and then she mumbled 
something about excuse and change, which was the only 
comforfc I had till I got home, when mother did think it a 
great shame and very unkind of them all, and thought 
Miss Martin had spited me from the first, from being jeal- 
ous of me most likely. (Perhaps it was my way of telling 


113 


OUK NEW MISTRESS. 


it that made mother think so. One does not know what 
one says when one is vexed, and it was quite true that the 
idleness and all the rest of it were much worse than if I 
had been a poor, ignorant, neglected girl, who knew no 
better. It was for my good, and please God, if I get well, 
ni show them that I know it.) 

Well, then his lordship came down. I must tell you that 
he is quite young, full ten years younger than Lady Mary, 
a handsome, fresh-looking, free-spoken young gentleman, 
who cares ever so much about the preserves, and is such a 
shot that father says it is a real pleasure to go out with 
him. He was to have a party of gentlemen for a week, 
but he came down for a day or two first by himself, to at- 
tend to business. Father was wondering how soon he 
ought to go up to the house after the dinner would be 
over, when there was a knock at the door, and there was 
his lordship, as friendly and hearty and homely as could 
be. Mother was rather put about that she had not known 
in time to light the parlor fire; but he only laughed, and 
said it was ten times more comfortable where we were in 
the kitchen; and he said he would not disturb us, and took 
a chair and sat down opposite to father by the fire, while 
mother and I moved a little way ofi, and she went on with 
her needle-work, and I with my task, as well as I could for 
the talk that was going on, though it was all about the 
coverts, and the game, and planning out each day^s shoot- 
ing. I believe they went on more than an hour and a half 
about it, and mother and I both began to get so sleepy; we 
thought they never would have done; but at last his lord- 
ship stood up and began wishing good-night. 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 


113 


I^m keeping you up, Mrs. Hewitt, he says, and 
little Bertha is winking — nay, big Bertha, I should say. 
She is grown up a fine jolly-looking girl — does Brookfield 
credit— Eh, by the bye, I want to know about that. Mary 
sent me down with orders to see about a row with the 
school-mistress. She isn^t gone ofi with Punch, is she?^^ 
We all burst out laughing, as my lord himself did; and 
father, who had taught him to shoot, and used to talk to 
him like one of our own lads, said, No, no, my lord. 
Lady Mary never told you that!^^ 

No, I can^t say she did,"" he answered, but she is in 
a great state of mind about the young woman having a sis- 
ter with bad connections — run off with a fellow belonging 
to Punch. Ain"t that it?"" 

You"ve not got it yet, my lord,"" said father. '' The 
poor thing was fetched away by her own husband, so she 
had no choice but to go. And I don"t believe naught as to 
Punch; that"s only the women"s talk. For my part, I"ve 
seen nothing against the mistress or her sister either. Very 
decent bodies, I should say, but the womanfolk are all set 
against them because they kept themselves to them- 
selves."" 

Then mother spoke up, for she was always vexed that fa- 
ther took the mistress"s part. She said she didn"t wish to 
hurt no one; and as to Punch, that was all the boys" non- 
sense; but she did think Miss Martin was not a proper per- 
son to have the care of a place like this, with young girls 
under her, for she had her favorites, and a young woman 
like that always had her head full of courting and folly. 
Besides, the sister had gone off with her husband, it was 


114 


OUR KEW MISTRESS. 


true, but without a word of notice, and nobody denied that 
he was given to drink, and had been in prison. 

Yes, his lordship answered, that was just what his sister 
said; and that if they kept this mistress on, these people 
would be coming back here, and there was reason to think 
the man was connected with poachers. 

Father laughed at. that, and said the fellow was one of 
those town-bred chaps who could not fire ofi a gun, and 
that he had never heard of Punch and Judy poaching! 
Still there was no denying that town-bred fellows did have 
connections who encoui’aged poaching; and that was what 
Lord Brookfield hated most, and so did father, though he 
did not greatly believe in this Martin man^s knowing about 
it; but if he tried to speak a word in defense of Miss Mar- 
tin, mother rose upon him for taking part against his own 
child. 

What, doesn^t she hit off with the mistress?^^ asked 
my lord. 

On which mother up and told him how Miss Martin was 
always down upon me, and I never could do anything to 
satisfy her, while Eose Shepherd was the favorite, and 
how they gave me much too hard work to do, Rowing the 
book I had been doing my sums from, where there were 
the questions in circulating decimals, and one about how 
soon a lot of taps would fill a cistern, all beginning at dif- 
ferent times and with a different diameter. My lord held 
up his hands and groaned at the sight [though, in fact, those 
difficulties were none of Miss Martinis causing, but just 
the requirements for pupil - teachers], and he attended 
when mother went on to say she should not have let me go 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 


115 


on there, but that she understopd there was to be a change. 
All the family thought ever so much of mother^s opin- 
ion, for, as I have heard Mrs. Bonny, the housekeeper, 
say, old Lady Brookfield always said she was a sensible 
woman, who had brought up her children well, and no 
doubt that weighed with the young lord. 

It was meant to be a great secret from all of us young 
ones, but of course it could not be, for Miss Lucas always 
heard everything from her ladies when she was brushing 
their hair at night; and what they did not tell her it was 
easy to make out from their conversation with each other. 
So she knew that all the managers had a meeting at the 
vicarage — Lord Brookfield, the vicar, Mr. Eodney, the 
agent, and Miss Freeward, who told Miss Margaret all 
about it in her hearing. 

She said she was really sorry to go against the vicar, but 
that he had been quite talked over,, for those women were 
very plausible, and Miss Martin was clever, taught well, 
and maintained good discipline, but that was not every- 
thing; though Mr. Hardwicke declared that there was the 
high principle and attention to conduct that was desirable, 
the ladies did not believe so, and thought him deceived. 

Then, as to its being cruel to turn her away under a 
year, when it might be hard to get another situation. Miss 
Freeward held that she never ought to have come, for it 
was under false pretenses; for though the vicar said he had 
known of the sister and her troubles, he had been led to 
suppose the husband was in America, and that there was 
not the least chance of his turning up again. 

Well, the long and short of it was that all the others 


116 


OUR JSTEW MISTRESS* 


were against the vicar. His lordship believed what Lady 
Mary and my mother had told him^ and did not want to 
have such a fellow as Mr. Martin loafing about the place; 
and Mr. Eodney was sure to go the same way as his lord- 
ship, so that they were three against one, and so the votes 
went against the vicar. For in these days the clergj^man 
does not manage it all his own way, as used to be the way 
in the place where father was bred up; but he is only one 
out of a set of managers. Besides, almost all the money 
for the school comes from his lordship and Lady Mary, so 
they have a right to a voice. 

Father was vexed about it, and said one of these days he 
should give his lordship a bit of his mind, and tell him 
that instead of holding his own against the parson, as he 
was young enough to be proud of fancying he did, he had 
let himself to be carried along by a lot of womanfolk and 
their gossiping tongues into doing a hard, unjust action, 
such as his father, the old earl, never would have done. 

That vexed mother dreadfully, and she cried as I never 
saw her do before; but father would not promise not to do 
it, and I really don't know whether he ever did or not, for 
all the next week and more there were the gentlemen stay- 
ing there, for the shooting and the hunting — pop, pop, 
pop, in the woods; and the first day mother was always 
thinking about poor Joe Bolton, as she never had done be- 
fore, just because she had had that tiff with father; and 
she got terribly nervous when he was late in coming home, 
though it turned out that he was only helping to pack the 
cart with the pheasants for the station, and he came in 
with a couple of rabbits over his shoulder, as pleased as 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 


117 


possible^ and 'all of a smile at the ba;gs they had made, and 
because my lord had shot better than any of them. He 
had quite forgotten that there had ever been words with 
mother, but she hadn^t; and though she said nothing, she 
made me take one of the rabbits early the next morning, to 
ask Miss Martin to accept it from her and father. I did 
not much like doing it, so I took it round to the back 
kitchen, thinking to leave it there, but I found Rose wash- 
ing vegetables, and crying over the crock, and she flew at 
me like a little spitfire, saying she wondered how I dared 
to come with my presents like a crocodile, when I had 
always been set against our dear, sweet governess, and had 
got her sent away with my wicked tales, evil speaking, 
lying, and slandering. I said Miss Rose had better look at 
home, for who had brought all this about by talking to 
foreigners in the street, such as she had no call to? 

Then Miss Martin heard us, and came in -to scold us 
both for quarreling. She said she wished she could go 
away at once, if there were to be disputes like that over 
her; and that she thanked Mr. and Mrs. Hewitt for their 
kindness. Every one seemed trying to be kind to her. 
And then the tears came into her eyes. 

For whatever people had said about her, when it was 
known that she was going they seemed to turn all round, 
except perhaps Susan Elcock, who said she was glad to 
have unmasked a viper; and Miss Lucas, who was proud 
of her ladies having listened to her and got their way. 
The children all cried. I think Rose set them off, and 
their handkerchiefs were all wet through, and their slates 
in such a mess! And the parents who had grumbled the 


118 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 


most said now they didn^t like changes; that the children 
had never been so good^ nor got on so well, and that the 
gentlefolks didn^t know when they had got a good mistress. 

While as to governess Betsy, who had been so set against 
Miss Martin from the first, Prances told me it was enough 
to frighten one to hear her standing up to Miss Preeward, 
as father might have done to his lordship You\e done 
a right down cruel thing. Miss Caroline, says she, turn- 
ing adrift a poor innocent orphan, and putting a slur on 
her character, when she has no one to speak for her, and 
hasn^t a fault but being a good sister.’’^ 

Prancie heard no more, for they saw her and sent her 
out. And yet af ter all much was owing to Mrs. Bolton^s 
own murmurings when first the ladies came home! She 
would have been glad enough to take it all back. I 
seemed the only one who had been the same all along, 
never liking the mistress, nor giving in to her a bit more 
than I could help. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

JESSIE'S LOG-BOOK. — CASHIERED. 

January 8. — I did not lexpect this! I am not to stay 
here. Lord Brookfield came to the park some days ago, 
and there was a meeting of the school managers; and the 
vicar came in the evening to tell me it had been decided 
that I had better not remain here under the circumstances. 
My notice is for three months, till the Easter holiday. 
And he was ready to recommend me very highly. 

He said he did not find fault, nor did any one else, with 


CUE NEW MISTEESS. 


119 


my management of the school, or my teaching of the chil- 
dren; indeed, I do feel quite sure that this is against his 
wish, though I do think he might have stood up for me a 
little more. He never said he thought, only that the man- 
agers thought. Of course I was hurt and angry, and 
begged to know what he meant; and he said at last that 
the managers considered the connection with Fred Martin 
undesirable for the parish. He went on to say hastily that 
he did not think it would be the same objection everywhere 
— in a London school, for instance, where people^s affairs 
are not so liable to be discussed by their neighbors — and he 
returned again to say what recommendations he would 
give me. Then, saying something about not letting the 
children know, he got away, leaving me certain that this is 
against his will. Of course it is those spiteful Miss Free- 
wards. No, I ought not to have written that, but I do 
think it is very hard. To have been only in a school six 
months makes it so hard to find another! 

And as to finding another, how would it be if Amy, de- 
serted and broken-hearted, came wandering here without 
notice, only to find a stranger? There are those who 
would be kind to her, but except the vicar and Mrs. Dyke 
she hardly knows them even by sight, and what would be- 
come of her? 

Oh! it is cruel! cruel! Whoever did it! That is the 
worst of it, the very worst; but any way it is sad enough 
to leave these children just as they seem to be the one 
thing that makes my heart ache less. Eose and Annie 
Knowles, and Kate, who really fights with her temper, 
and poor Louie Lamb, and all the rest, that I hoped to 


120 


OUR KEW MISTRESS. 


see grow into really nice girls, and friends as well as 
scholars. 

10 R. M. — I had fco leave off to try to comfort Eose, who 
had been to her home, and came rushing in to know if 
was true. The poor child was like a wild thing, and flung 
her arms round my neck so as almost to strangle me, say- 
ing what I am glad no one else heard about those who 
have decided this. She never thought his lordship would 
turn out a wicked earl; she declared she would never 
oouftesy to him nor Miss Preeward again, till I had to 
scold her and reason with her to bring her to her senses; 
and she ended by settling that I am to apply for her as a 
pupil-teacher wherever I go, and that Mrs. Amy, as she 
calls her, is to come back to us there. Talking to her has 
made me better. I see that I must trust in faith that God 
will watch over Amy, though I must not wait for her here. 
I suppose it is a providence. Or is it my punishment for 
not speaking of my first sight of that man either to her or 
Mr. Hardwicke? which both tell me was wrong. There is 
no making out; there is nothing to do but to try to cast 
the care on Him who can turn it all to the best. So I will 
try to get a better spirit of forgiveness before I dare to say 
my prayers for her or for myself. May be the ladies 
might be offended at what they took to be want of open- 
ness, and I believe they had heard quantities of false 
stories. Little Alice May popped up her face to mine one 
day, and. said, Please, ma^am, Martha Eice should say 
your sister is gone with Punch. I stojiped the tale-tell- 
ing, but if such stories are about, no wonder the ladies did 
not like it. The vicar knew better — ^yes, he did; but per- 


•OUR NEW MISTRESS. 


121 


haps he could not help himself. And Lord Brookfield is 
almost a boy, who no doubt did as his sister had instruct- 
ed him. But ah! they did not know what they were doing. 
No! I^’ll not begin all that again! 

— Every one is so kind that it quite overcomes me. 
Mr. Dyke is so hot over it that he wants to write to the 

Overbury Zealot and. the School Guardian about 
it; but of course that must not be. His wife promises to 
look out for Amy, and to receive and direct on any letters 
to me, so that I may not miss the chance of hearing of my 
poor wanderer. Mrs. Bolton cries, and storms at every 
one, so that I could almost laugh; and she ran in with a 
cup of hot cocoa, Frances carrying a buttered cake behind, 
and the two children trotting after, each with a* sticky 
bulLs-eye, all by way of cheering me. Even the Hewitts, 
who were always against me, sent a rabbit this morning; 
and as to the children, they shed floods of tears, poor 
things; and though I know it is a sort of infection among 
school-girls, and they were as happy as possible in a quar- 
ter of an hour, it was impossible not to be touched. 

Perhaps Miss Freeward meant kindness, for she brought 
me a number of papers about Australia, assuring me of all 
the advantages of emigrating, promising me the highest 
recommendations, an assisted passage, and three or four 
times my present salary. Of course there can be no leav- 
ing England while Amy is there, and so I told her; when 
she gave me to understand that I am a very foolish young 
woman not to leave my sister to what she has chosen for 
herself. 

loth , — Here is another act of kindness that has put me 


m 


OUR KRW MISTRUSS. ' 


in some perplexity. But no! no! no! And yet it is very 
good of him! Mr. Pierce was away on his rounds when it 
all happened — I mean the dismissal — but no sooner did he 
come back to his lodgings and hear of it than he came 
straight off here to renew all he had said before, and assure 
me that, whatever other people fancied, he believed noth- 
ing against me, and was as devoted as ever, and would 
care for me and uphold me through thick and thin if only 
I will let him. It is very noble and generous in him, and 
he is so good; Mr. Dyke has at different times told me 
instances. I do like him as I could never like any other 
man; but it will not do. I must be free for Amy, and not 
tie a burden about his neck of nobody knows what distress 
or disgrace. Not that he asked for anything except my 
promise, and my leave for him to care for me. He has an 
old mother and an invalid brother, and has to help them, 
so that he can neither marry nor save at present; and of 
necessity there would be years of waiting. In fact, he only 
found out that his brother is never hkely to be well again 
when he went home at Christmas, or he says he should not 
have spoken to me in the autumn; but coming home to- 
day to find me not only deserted, but dismissed and disap- 
proved, and left to fight my way quite alone, he could not 
help, as he said, coming to beg for the right to comfort 
me, and to let me know that there is one faithful heart 
that beats for me as warmly — nay, more warmly — than 
ever. That was what he said! It is silly of me to write 
it, but I do like to see it, though it must not be. 

If he had no one belonging to him, and could marry at 
once and live on here, so as for me to be ready in case 


OrR KEW MISTRESS. 


128 


Amy should drift back here again, I should be very much 
tempted — ^but no, it must not be! If it were only Amy, 
there would not be the difficulty; he would be the best of 
brothers to her, and she can do a good deal toward sup- 
porting herself; but, in his situation, to be connected with 
such a man as Fred would be fatal. See only what the 
very suspicion has brought upon me; and if I were en- 
gaged to him, his goodness is such that he might plunge 
into all sorts of difficulties if Fred had brought himself and 
Amy into fresh trouble. It would be the ruin of him, and 
it would be absolutely wicked in me to bring such things 
upon him. 

No! I have told him it can not be, and I must stick to 
it. It will be easier for both when I am gone from here; 
and yet what a comfort it would be to have such a friend 
to write to and consult when matters grow difficult for a 
woman! and how ungrateful it seems to have to make as if 
one did not feel such goodness as one really does! but that 
is for his sake too. Oh, how silly I am! God grant me 
grace and strength to go through with it all as I ought to do. 

Wk — He said nobody could hinder him from still 
caring for me. I must resolve not to encourage that dur- 
ing these three months. There is no knowing whether I 
wish or donT wish them to be over. At any rate, his 
goodness has somehow made it easier to pray the prayer 
for enemies, persecutors, and slanderers; though when I 
look up and see Miss Freeward^s nice kind countenance, and 
the young earFs boyish face, I donT feel as if they deserved 
any such grand names, for they are only under a mistake; 
but at any rate I can pray, Turn their hearts/^ 


124 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 


12/A. — Mr. Dyke has brought me the School Guard- 
ian to look over the advertisements. He says I should 
lose no time in advertising, or answering some of these. 
That may be true, but none of these look very promising; 
I will not go to any place like that where Mrs. Dyke^s 
brother is, and none of the nice places are likely to choose 
me when they hear of the reasons for parting with me 
here. I would rather go back to Bath to Mr. Soles’ work- 
room, but my education would be wasted, and the pay- 
ment would not be sufficient if Amy came to me broken 
and helpless. That can only be a last resource. 

13^^72^. — It is not so easy to give full interest to the chil- 
dren’s studies as when we were likely to go on together for 
years. It seems flat to be only preparing them for some- 
body else who may change all the system. I strive not to 
be either remiss or sharp-tempered with them, and I hope 
I am not, but it was trying when Miss Preeward reminded 
me this morning that my future might greatly depend on 
the inspector’s report of the efficiency of my school; as if I 
need to have such an object set before me to make me do 
my duty. I believe she was annoyed at the third class 
persisting in that bad and disagreeable habit of licking the 
finger when turning over a page, and I could not well say 
how often I have reproved Bertha for suffering it, and how 
entirely Prances has cured her class of doing so. Bertha’s 
were better for a time, but she has let them fall back into 
the same way again of late. It is very hard to know w'hat 
to do with a girl of that age, who seems possessed with a 
spirit of opposition. Perhaps she may be benefited by the 
change. If only she would be obedient, and what my 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 


125 


father used to call conformable, she would be such an ad- 
mirable girl. There is a great deal of good in her; she is 
perfectly truthful, and can be very kind; she is uncom- 
monly clever, and has considerable power of teaching and 
of discipline when she chooses to exert it; and with a per- 
son who can influence her she may be in every way excel- 
lent, but it seems as if I only excited her to encounter me 
with flippancy and as much pertness and disobedience as 
she dares. She has made the discovery, too, that she is 
handsome, and torments her hair, and tries affected airs 
and graces, so that I tremble for her. 

lUh . — Our diocesan inspection is over. Mr. Eitson, the 
clergyman who came, knew very well how to draw out the 
children's knowledge, and he seemed 'much pleased with 
them on the whole. There is so much assistance given 
here in the religious teaching that the head teachers of the 
school can give some attention to the younger classes, and 
the numbers are not too large. Then governess Betsy 
teaches in that department much better than in any other, 
and the tinies said and sung their hymns, and knew their 
little prayers, and answered about Bible stories as prettily 
as could be wished. 

The elder ones all did fairly well too. Annie Knowles 
made several excellent answers, and Katie Thomson was 
praised for showing thoughtfulness. The girls were of 
course very unequal, answering best to Mr. Hardwicke or 
to me, as they would be sure to do, but no one in the first 
class did badly in any of the four subjects, and Mr. Kifcson 
was pleased with their reverent manner. The second 
.class, Franceses, did very well likewise, hardly missing to 


126 


OUR KEW MISTRESS. 


answer a question on the plain narrative of the wandering 
in the wilderness; and most of them had some knowledge 
of the lessons to be derived, and of the typical meaning. 
That I have taught them, while Mr. Hardwicke had the 
first class, but the other lessons done with Prances, after 
preparation with me, showed that pains had been taken, 
though poor Francie was so shy at having to give a lesson 
before everybody that she blushed and blundered over the 
parable of the sower, till Mr. Eitson, in pity to her, let her 
leave ofi and asked the rest himself; but by that time the 
children were confused, and did not do themselves justice. 

With the third group, Bertha was not shy, and asked 
plenty of fluent questions about Joseph, showing what she 
can do. But when the children were to say the catechism 
the old mistakes showed themselves, such as Spontius 
Pilate,^'' and ^^my spirituous pastors and masters. I 
have tried to cure this, but it is only about once a fort- 
night that I can take that division, and telling Bertha to 
attend to it is useless. There were other failures, too, 
which made Mr. Eitson observe that it was strange to find 
that one who could give so good a lesson had not brought 
out more clear and correct knowledge even in these young 
ones. 

I hear something of the same kind was noted about 
Arthur Norton^s class. Those two, it may be feared, are 
doing each other no good. However, there are very few 
lads who can be trusted to give a religious lesson reverently 
and earnestly. Yet what is a school-master to do with all 
the boys from twelve to seven years old to instruct in these 
most important subjects in three-quarters of an hour? 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 


137 


OHAPTEE XVIL 

BERTHA^S NARRATIVE. — TAKING HER SWING. 

It is very horrid to have people going and not gone. At 
least, it was very uncomfortable after Miss Martin had had 
her notice. There were Frances and Kose always declaring 
she was so sweet and so dear, just when I felt her crosser 
and more tiresome than ever, always worrying about little 
fidgets in the. ways of the class, just as if I did not know 
how to teach them. 

There never was such a fuss as when she found Minnie 
Lee and Susie Dean playing at christening babies, and then 
she was not half so angry with the children themselves for 
doing it as she was with me for standing by laughing to 
see how they had made a baby out of a pocket-handker- 
chief and the handle of an old brush. She said they knew 
no better, and talked to them quite softly instead of pun- 
ishing them; but she was quite sharp with me, and would 
like of all things to have punished me if she had dared. I 
believe she must have spoken to the vicar, for he gave me 
a great talking to about my confirmation, and came very 
near to threatening to put it off. I wonder what mother 
would have said to him if he had, when he made no difid- 
culty about that dull Francie and silly little Eosie. (Ah, 
yes, it is put off now!) 

I know I was in a bad way; I knew it all the time, but 
I had got to dislike Miss Martin more every day, and to 
believe all the talk against her, so that something made 
me pull more and more against her, and the more the 


m 


DUE NEW MISTEESS. 


other two teachers and the big girls fussed about her the 
more put out I was. I used to lead them alb and they 
would go after me if I did but hold up my finger, and now 
nothing was good enough for them but that carroty thing, 
whose sister had gone off secretly with a convict showman. 

I always intended to make a change, and be the good 
girl of the place again, but I could not begin while she 
was there and give in to her, so I meant to take my swing 
before turning over a new leaf, and show that I was not 
going to attend to all her ridiculous little fads, and Arthur 
said I was a lass o| spirit, and that if we gave in to all the 
head teachers^ fancies there would be no fun and no com- 
fort left in life. 

Then came the diocesan inspector. He was a fresh one, 
and a great deal more particular than the one before him. 
I gave a lesson on Joseph before him, and the class an- 
swered as if it was all in print, for I knew just what they 
could answer, and I saw him jotting down his good marks. 
And then, just to spoil it all, what must he do but go and 
stick at all the words in the catechism that they will say 
wrong! no power will stop them. I do believe he did it 
on purpose, and put questions to them about their New 
Testament subjects that they could not possibly answer, 
laying the blame of it all on me, as if I could help stupid 
little children's memories being short. He really was very 
unkind, for when the report came he praised everything 
except the New Testament and catechism in my class. 
They were only marked ^^Fair,’^ and in the report he 
said, The third group shows less careful instruction than 
the rest.^^ 


OUil KEW MISTEESS. 


129 


Of course they all set upon me. It is very hard when 
having good abilities, as they call it, only makes people 
scold one the more. And last year I had such a good 
little notice all to myself in the report. 

However, Mr. Eitson said so much about the whole 
school being improved that every one was pleased, and his 
lordship, who was still at Brookfield, said he must give us 
a treat, as we had had no real good oue at Christmas since 
Lady Mary went away. There was a pantomime going to 
perform at Overbury, and he said he would treat us all to 
it. It was Little Eed Eidinghood,^-’ and there were to 
be afternoon performances for children, to one of which 
we were to go. 

There was a great deal of settling. I remember Miss 
Lucas said her ladies did not approve of giving young peo- 
ple a taste for theatrical performances, and that they did 
not think her ladyship or Lady Mary would have sanc- 
tioned it, so that we were dreadfully afraid that Lady Mary 
might write and put a stop to it all; but the vicar was 
good-natured, and said it would do us no harm. 

The times of the trains were not convenient, so it was 
fixed for the children to go in the big break at the park 
and one of the wagons. The little ones under eight years 
old were not to go; the Miss Free wards said they should 
have tea and magic-lantern instead; and governess Betsy, 
who had old-fashioned notions about play-going, and said 
such fine doings did not suit a poor lone widow woman, 
stayed to help them. So there were only thirty-three to 
go, and there was plenty of room for them to ride in the 
wagons. 


5 


130 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 


We were all very much delighted at the notion, but Ar- 
thur Norton, who had often been at the theater at Over- 
bury, said that they had taken a horrid place for us in the 
upper gallery, where we could not see or hear and nobody 
could see us. It is a theater that was built a good many 
years ago, they say, and there are not always plays in it: 
only sometimes when actors come round; and there are 
concerts and meetings there. 

I went into Overbury on Saturday, and Arthur said we 
could get tickets at a low figure for going in the lower gal- 
lery, and he and I agreed that it would be much jollier 
than going with a lot of charity children, so that we could 
not have any fun, nor eat oranges nor anything. So we 
determined to go in together in the train early in the day, 
and get our dinner at Mrs. Norton ^s and go with Harriet. 

After all, though, they did not give the boys a holiday 
that first day. Arthur could not get leave from Mr. Dyke, 
and very well it was for him that he could not go, though 
I could not repeat what he said about it. One little knows 
what is a real mercy. 

Father was rather put out about it. He said he saw no 
sense in my not going with the rest to help look after the 
children; but mother said it would spoil all my pleasure to 
be bothered with them, and she didn^t want me to be 
catching cold, going jumbling along crowded up with all 
the lot. Ruination ones and all. Besides, I could not have 
worn my best hat, with the green and yellow paroquet in 
it, that I bought in the holidays, and which would have 
sent Miss Freeward into fits if I had offered to wear it at 
school or church; and nobody would have noticed me any 


OUR KEW MISTRESS. 


131 


more than ordinary-looking Louie Lamb, though his lord- 
ship himself said I was such a fine-looking girl. 

At any rate, I did enjoy it, when Miss Martin began tell- 
ing me how I was to come down in the break, and whom I 
was to pick up by the way, that I could answer, I^m not 
going with you, Miss Martin; I am going to the lower gal- 
lery with Miss Norton. 

Does your mother understand that?^^ she asked, a lit- 
tle vexed. 

Oh, yes,^^ I answered; and then she had no more to say. 

Somehow it seems as if everything that day was marked 
in hard into my mind, so that I can^t forget it, though 
perhaps I shall when I have told it all out. How I put on 
my pretty crimson merino that I had new for Christmas, 
and my ulster over it for the train, and my hat with the 
paroquet, and mother made me take her red cloud in case 
it should be chilly coming home; and how I walked to the 
station, and a young woman in the train noticed my hat, 
and told me birds had gone out of fashion; for the great 
ladies, the princesses and all, had agreed not to wear them 
because killing them was so cruel, and all the handsome 
kinds were almost destroyed. 

I remember, too, how many people there were about, 
gentlemen chiefiy, and how I thought they must be all 
going to the play; but there was some public meeting going 
on that day. And we were very merry at dinner at Mr. 
Norton ^s; it was a bullock^s heart with stuffing, and poor 
Mr. Norton was so droll about its being hearty, for it was 
dressed by a receipt Hartie had got, and had taken great 
pains with. 


132 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 


Yes, Hartie was as good a girl as ever lived. She could 
have taken quite a genteel situation, but she stayed at 
home because her mother was not strong, and she did not 
like to leave her to a rough girl; and she washed, and 
scrubbed, and cooked, and dressed the shop, and never 
minded what she did. And she was so fond of her church 
and her Bible class! She was always asking me questions, 
for she said I had been so much better taught than she had 
— which was true, for she thought Job lived after all the 
kings of J udah, and that St. Chrysostom was an apostle. 
She had never thought much till her confirmation, but 
now she changed very much indeed. When we went up to 
her room to get ready, she wanted me to help her in her 
preparation for her G. P. S. Bible class. Their lady had 
set the class to find out the texts about paradise and 
heaven, and try to distinguish between them, and she was 
very eager about it, and wished to know which I thought 
belonged to one and which to the other; but I didn^t want 
to be doing Scripture lessons then, just as if it was half 
past nine at school, and I was dreadfully afraid we should 
be late and not get good places, though she said there was 
plenty of time, and I gave her no peace till she began to 
dress. How kind she was! lending me this locket of her 
own to wear (they told me to keep it, and I shall never 
part with it, no, never), and curling my hair over my fore- 
head for me, though first she asked if mother would ap- 
prove, and I told her oh, yes, mother didn^t mind; it was 
only the ladies who did not think it good for the school 
children. And so we set ofi together, as happy as possi- 
ble, though Hartie would never have gone but for me, 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 


133 


I had never been there before, and we went up the nar- 
row passage, and the stone stairs with a turn in them 
branching out to our seats, and another turn to the upper 
gallery. We were quite early, and I watched to see the 
house filling, but I do believe whenever I was not asking 
her who people were, and passing remarks on them, she 
was going on with her texts; for once she said, ‘‘ ‘ In Thy 
presence is the fullness of joy;^ which would that stand 
for, Bertha?^^ 

Oh, Hartie,^^ I said, donT go on with that now. It 
is quite shocking to speak Scripture texts in a play-house. 

That silenced her; but I should like every one to know 
what her mind was upon all that time. We saw the side 
of the gallery above filling with the Brookfield children, 
and I nodded up to Frances to show how much better off I 
was. 

The orchestra began to play; there were not very many 
of them; and by and by the curtain drew up. It was a 
picture itself — an Italian lake and blue mountains; and 
there was the cottage as natural as could be, j ust like 
Granny Wills’s, and the mother putting on Red Riding- 
hood’s cloak and basket, and singing — for most of it was 
singing — and then Red Riding-hood set off, and there came 
a funny man — the clown, Hartie called him — and talked 
most comically to the mother, and played antics, so that I 
laughed — oh! I laughed. 

Then the curtain came down, but it was up again very 
soon, and there was a real lovely wood, with the fairies 
dancing in it, all in white muslin with wings and short 
petticoats, singing; and when Red Riding-hood with her 


134 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 


basket came along, they danced round and sung warnings 
to her, that have rung in my head ever since: 

“ Stay, maiden, stay; 

Peril on the way.” 

But Eed Eiding-hood went on through them singing a verse 
about taking heed and her granny^ s need. Then came a 
whole band of ugly, droll elves, with heads of dogs and 
cats and goats; and they danced and tumbled head over 
heels, and wanted to stop her with their comical singing, 
but she would go on. Then the clown came with things 
to sell, that all turned into something else; but I donT re- 
member that part so well, for there began to be a tremen- 
dous smell of paraflBne, and some one behind the scenes 
cried out: ^‘Fire!^^ Then voices all round cried out: 
‘‘Pire!^^ and everybody started up, all screaming; and 
Hartie and I got hold of one another and made for the 
passage, or were swept on by the others. But there^s no 
telling how it was; it was all pushing, and trampling, and 
screaming, and choking, and I think we got to the stairs, 
and that there was a falling, and a stifling and crushing, 
but after that — oh! so frightful — there was no more — I 
don^t remember any more. Oh! donT ask — 

[And she fainted at the very thought.] 


CHAPTEE XVIII. 

JESSIE^S LOG-BOOK. — OVERBURY THEATER. 

January 21. — Since there is no school to-day I will de- 
scribe as well as I can that fearful time, and tell of the 
mercy that was with us. 


OUR KEW MISTRESS. 


135 


A pantomime was advertised at the little old theater at 
Overbury, and the good-natured young Lord Brookfield 
proposed to treat the children to the sight of Eed Eiding- 
hood, and to send them, the girls one day, the boys the 
other, in his own conveyances; while Miss Freeward under- 
took to entertain the little ones at home. 

The drive in the break with the two handsome carriage 
horses, or even in the large light wagon, was a delight in 
itself. J ust as we were all packed in, the young earl rode 
past, and the little girls all jumped up and bobbed their 
courtesies, and he took off his hat and waved it to them 
with such a merry face, calling out: Good luck to you;^^ 
and there was another courtesying and buzz of: Thank 
you, my lord.^^ 

Everybody above eight years old was there except Fanny 
Brown, who had bronchitis, and Bertha Hewitt, who pre- 
ferred to assert her independence and to go with Arthur 
Norton^s sister to one of the better seats. 

The boys gave us a ringing cheer from their play- 
ground, and off we set most joyously, every little pocket- 
handkerchief waving in the air. We put up at the livery 
stables at the George, and the children walked through the 
street very orderly, two and two, as if they had been going 
to church. 

There was a great throng at the door, and it was 
some time before our turn came for admittance; but I 
had an order for thirty-eight to the upper gallery, and all 
the check-taker did was to. count the numbers as we went 
in — thirty-six altogether, as two were missing. Up we 
went, along a narrow passage, and up three flights of stone 


136 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 


stairs, with many turns in them, and then along another 
passage, till we were let into the gallery. 

To me, after what I had once or twice seen at Bath, the 
place looked very small and shabby, but it was very won- 
derful to the children, especially the drop-scene and lights, 
which were only paraffine. The place is not used often 
enough to be fitted with gas, and can hardly be under 
much inspection. 

The children were pleased to spy Bertha below, for we 
were in a gallery at right angles with the front one, where 
the best seats were, and had a window behind us — dark- 
ened, of course. I own I was gratified at the behavior of 
my flock, who sat as quietly as if they were in church, and 
I believe felt almost more awe-stricken by the novelty; 
while a large number of the town children who came tum- 
bling up after us, apparently with no one to take care of 
them, were very rough and turbulent, poor things, eating, 
disputing, squabbling, and laughing, and talking out loud 
even after the curtain drew up, much to the amazement of 
the little Brookfielders. 

Even after all that has happened I can not forget the 
amazed face of little Lucy Ellis when there was a dance of 
fairies. I believe she thought them real, and she clung to 
me in a fright at the grotesque elves that followed them. 
I heard Eose murmur, Oh, this is — ! this is — V’ as if 
she could not find any word for the beauty of it, and we 
were too far ofi for her to see the common faces and coarse 
starched muslin of the poor fairies. 

All this joy and delight was only too soon over. There 
was a cry of fire from behind the scenes. I fancy my chil- 


OUE NEW MISTRESS. 


137 


dren thought it part of the play, and so did not take alarm 
till the cry was echoed by screams all over the place, and 
every one began to spring up and rush for the doors. 
Happily I had come in last, and was at the outer end of 
the bench, the two pupil-teachers just behind me. I did 
not see any fire, though I smelled paraffine, and I was quite 
sure that to try to rush down those stairs in a crowd was 
by far the greater danger at the moment. I gave the word 
to sit, and my dear good children obeyed me as if in 
school. I stood up, and tried to call to the others, who 
were scrambling to the door, to wail^ but there was such a 
frightful noise that they could hardly have heard me, and 
they would not have minded me if they had. Those were 
very terrible moments. Annie Knowles, who, having 
gone on to the end, could see between the scenes, called 
out to me, Oh, ma^am, I see a smoke! please let us 
go!^^ and there were a few little sobs and cries of, We 
shall be burned! Oh — But I said again, Keep still, 
my dears; we can not go; the door is choked. The fire 
will most likely be out in a minute; and if it gets worse, 
we will get at the window and call to the people. DonT 
be afraid, God is taking care of you. Only sit still. 

I canT think how I did it; God must have helped me, 
but I began to sing: 

O God, our help is ages past,** 

and they all joined in, dear little things. 

It came to me that if I began a prayer some might think 
themselves as good as dead, and that this hymn was a 
prayer. But they would never have done it if Frances, 


138 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 


Eose, Annie, and Kate had not taken it up at once. We 
had not finished the third verse when there was the sound 
of the lock of a door behind us — and there stood Mr. 
Pierce! Oh! as Eose said afterward, it was like an angel 
come to deliver us. 

You are there safe!^^ said he. Thank God! Down 
this way — there — straight down, out into the street. 
YouTl find a door open.^^ 

I sent Frances first with little Grace Eden, who was 
nearly fainting with fright, and we got them all down in 
pairs, waiting so that each couple might have a fair start, 
while Mr. Pierce had time to say to me, No hurry; no 
danger here, hut there must be terrible work round there;^^ 
and he shuddered. But how did you get here?^^ I asked; 
and he said that when he came running along the street, 
trying to find another door or opening, a ' woman was try- 
ing to unlock this one; she caught hold of him and said, 
^^Oh! go up! go up! Let them out! Here^s the key! 
Jessie is up there— and I^m lame!^^ 

Jessie! Was it Amy? He said it might be, but he had 
not stopped a moment to think, not knowing what state 
the inside might be in, and he thought I should find her in 
the street. Still I could not go till I had seen all my chil- 
dren out. There were none of the others left, only a boy 
and girl who had been knocked down in the scramble, and 
were crying bitterly, and a big girl with a baby in her 
arms, crouched down on one of the seats. W'e saw them 
off, and then gave one glance down into the theater. The 
curtain was still up, but most of the lights were out. It 
was empty, except for some helpless figures that men were 


OUK KEW MISTKESS. 


139 


carrying in from the door and laying down on the step. 
Mr. Pierce would not let me look. Don\ don^t/^ he 
said; “ come down^ come away!’^ and he held my hand 
tight all down those stone stairs, while the cool outside air 
came blowing up in my face. It was a different street 
from the one we had come in by. 

There was a policeman guarding the opening till all 
were safe down, and the children drawn up in the street, 
all thirty-five of them, but no Amy. Frances, however, 
said in a bewildered way that she thought she had been 
there, trembling fit to drop, but that one of the fairies had 
come along, and called, Mrs. Petrelli, Mrs. Petrelli, you 
are wanted directly;^^ and she began, Tell my sister — 
but she was hurried on and could not finish. 

The children were crying and trembling; they said that 
people had kept on rushing at them as they came down, 
hoping to find their own little ones, and in despair when 
they proved to be strangers; and just then came the young 
earl, looking quite white and almost wild. Is it you, 
the mistress. Miss Martin he called out. ‘‘ Are they 
safe?^^ And as I answered, ^^Yes, my lord,^^ he quite 
gasped out to an elderly gentleman who had come with 
him, I thought I had been the death of all these chil- 
dren. Are they all here? — all safe?^^ 

‘^All thirty-five, my lord, I said; ‘‘I counted them 
out."" 

All but teacher Bertha. Bertha Hewitt went out by 
that door,"" went a terrible murmur among the children, 
for they knew by this time what that door "" meant. 
‘‘Bertha Hewitt! Old Hewitt"s daughter!"" he cried. 


140 


OUK KEW MISTRESS. 


and in a few words we told him that she was not with us, 
but Annie and the others had seen her and her companion 
sucked into that terrible passage, as if they could not stop 
themselves. Poor young Lord Brookfield was very much 
shocked and quite overcome, and turned to the old gentle- 
man, Sir James Larpent, to ask what could be done. 

Her father is my keeper, the best of fellows, he said. 

Fye known them all my life — fine girl — ^pride of their 
hearts — 

Sir James' said the first thing to be done was to send 
these children safe to their home, and desired me to take 
them to the station; and then Lord Brookfield came a lit- 
tle to his senses, and said, They drove, didnT they?^^ 
and we walked them to the stables. There the drivers — 
namely, the groom and Master Knowles — had hurried off 
in great alarm, the landlady said, on hearing of the 
fire. 

No doubt they were in the miserable crowd at the other 
door, struggling to know the fate of their children. Lord 
Brookfield went to fetch them, and the landlady, either by 
the gentleman^s orders or out of her own kindness, made 
all the poor, trembling, sobbing children sit down, and 
gave them some tea. I was parched enough to be very 
glad to swallow some, but very few could eat a morsel; 
and Eose was so hysterical that I was afraid she would set 
off all the others, and I had to get her away and scold her. 
My very throat ached with wanting to cry, but I did not 
dare; I did not venture on anything to upset the rest, and 
we all were shaken enough when Annie rushed up to her 
father and burst out sobbing. And the tears were running 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 


141 


down his face too as he said^ My maid, my maid, how 
could I ever have gone home to mother without thee?^^ 

The horses had been put to, meantime, and when the 
children had all been packed in, and were safe to go home 
to their friends, I said to the gentlemen as we stood in the 
inn yard that I could not go home without trying to find 
out what had become of poor Bertha, since if she was liv- 
ing there ought to be some one to take care of her. Thej 
said that was right, and Lord Brookfield then bethought 
himself to take his horse and ride to the lodge, so as to 
send in her parents. Though how I shall ever tell them 
I can not think, he said. 

At any rate,^^ said his friend, “ you have nothing to 
reproach yourself with in this case. If she had been with 
the others, as you intended, she would have been saved by 
this brave young woman. 

Then he asked if I had any one to go with me, and Mr. 
Pierce came forward and made some explanation, at which 
Sir James bent his head, but he went with us to the 
theater to the door we had come out by. The superin- 
tendent of police was watching there, and he explained 
that, as, of course, there was more hope of saving the up- 
permost of the terrible mass wedged together on those 
stairs, men had gone in that way, and were carrying the 
poor creatures out and laying them in the gallery, where 
some doctors were seeing which cases were alive, and if 
there were life they were carried out, and either borne off 
by waiting friends or taken to the hospital. No one was 
to be let come up the stairs till the sad work was over, and 
he thought it nearly was so now, as the same had been. 


142 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 


going on at the bottom of the stair by the other entrance. 
Much of this frightful destruction of young life had been 
caused by the locking-up of all the doors but one, so as to 
employ only one person to take the payments. 

When the superintendent heard that the poor girl we 
sought had been in the first gallery, he shook his head and 
said he feared there was little hope for her. Just then a 
policeman came down, looking white and marked with 
blood. All out now, sir,^-^ he said; the stair is clear, 
but there^s fifteen corpses, women and children, lying on 
the benches! Awful sight as ever I saw. Doctor thinks 
one girl may have life in her; they are getting her down. 
She had so tight hold of another poor lass, there was no 
getting them apart at first. 

And between two men, with arm hanging down, hair 
dropping about, clothes torn to rags, there was something 
that I knew — I can hardly tell how — to be bright, hand- 
some Bertha Hewitt! 


OHAPTEE XIX. 

JESSIE^S LOG-BOOK.— WOLF. 

My first notion was, when they told me that Bertha was 
alive, to take her to the George, for her parents to convey 
her home; but when the doctor who was carrying the 
board on which she lay heard ^hat her home was three 
miles off, he said that it was impossible, and that the only 
hope for her was in taking her at once to the hospital, 
though he feared they might be very full there. He 
thought there were injuries which must be attended to at 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 


143 


once, and remedies must be applied to restore animation. 
And, indeed, before they could get her to the great build- 
ing, about a hundred yards off, the air brought on a bleed- 
ing which almost choked her, and was terrible to witness, 
except that it proved that she was alive. It was dark by 
that time, and Mr. Pierce saw us to the door, and said he 
would go to meet Mr. and Mrs. Hewitt with the tidings, 
such as they were, and then come back for me. It was all 
like a dream, or as if I were going to waken and find it 
was not real, when I followed up the big stone steps into 
the hall. They carried Bertha away, and would not let 
me follow, but left me to wait in the hall, where a good 
many anxious friends were watching — some to have their 
patients restored with hurts attended to, some to hear a 
hopeful report, some to be admitted for a few moments to 
a hopeless bedside. 

I had not had a moment before to think of Amy. I 
knew her at least to be safe; and as to the strange name 
Frances had repeated, Peters had been Fredas mother^s 
maiden name, and his own full Christian name was Fred- 
erick Peters, which accounted for his taking it. I was 
thinking how I could succeed in making my way to her with 
Mr. Piercers help, when I heard a familiar sound on the 
stone stairs, and down they came, with a dazed, dreary, 
forlorn look, my poor Amy herself! 

I sprung across, and she almost fell into my arms off the 
last step, clinging tight to me. Oh, Jessie!^^ she said, 
‘‘ he is so bad, and they won’t let me stay with him!” and 
then she grew faint, for she was quite worn out; but she 
kept up, leaning against me, though she could not speak. 


144 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 


and only moaned a little from time to tinie^ ‘‘ Poor Fred!^^ 
and ^^^So burned! So burned!-^ Some one came and 
wanted to take her off as a fresh patient, and when I ex- 
plained, said we must not stay crowding up the hall, but 
consented when I said that I was waiting to hear about the 
last patient who had been brought in; and she was allowed 
to stay with me till at last the young doctor who brought 
her out came down to say that Bertha had been put to bed, 
and I might come and see her for a moment. Her leg is 
badly broken, and three ribs, but if there are no internal 
injuries she may recover; though of course there is no 
knowing yet, she is so fearfully crushed and bruised all 
over, and there may be concussion of the brain, for she is 
almost unconscious, only moaning a little now and then, 
and looking indeed like death. It seems that she fell above 
poor Miss Norton, and this saved her life, if saved she is, 
by God^s good mercy. I was just turning away from the 
sad sight when her father and mother were brought up, 
hardly able to restrain themselves, poor people, though 
they knew that otherwise they would not be allowed there, 
for there was a patient in'every bed all along the ward, and 
we heard groanings from one, and choked sobbings of some 
friend from another. Her mother went down on her knees 
and called her, and we thought her eyelids moved; but I 
knew I must not stay, and as I turned away Mr. Hewitt 
caught hold of both my hands and said, Oh, Miss Mar- 
tin, if I had only stood out, and made her go with you!^^ 
I could only squeeze his jjiand, and say how much I hoped 
she would do well, and then I went down to Amy. . Out- 
side the door, whom should I find but Mr. Pierce, waiting 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 


145 


with a fly ! He said the gentleman had told him to see to 
it, and together we persuaded my sister to go home with 
me, instead of back to her lodgings, since she was sure not 
to be admitted again to the hospital till the morning, and 
Mr. Pierce engaged to get her to the station for the first 
train. Indeed, she seemed so worn out as to be able to feel 
little more than that there was some one to take care of her; 
and if she could not be with that husband of hers she felt 
it a sort of rest to be with me and do what she was bidden. 
She lay back in the corner of the fly, only holding my hand 
and not speaking, and perhaps dozing. I durst not speak 
to her then, for all her mind was on ‘‘ poor Fred,^^ and I 
had picked up words here and there which made me sus- 
pect that all the mischief and agony and loss of life, and 
the misery that night in so many houses, were owing to 
him; and it was not possible to me at that moment not to 
feel that anything he suffered served him right, and of 
course there was no showing her what I felt, so I held my 
tongue. Mr. Pierce had gone on upon his bicycle, and I 
saw the red light of it now and then when I looked out, 
like a star on the slope of the hill in front, making me feel 
that I had a friend. 

When at last the carriage stopped, there seemed by the 
lamp-light quite a little crowd waiting to hear about poor 
Bertha. There were the vicar and his lordship, and Mr. 
Dyke, and Mr. Shepherd, and ever so many more. The 
vicar took hold of my hand, and shook it with all his 
might, and said, What does not this village owe to you. 
Miss Martin His lordship was beginning, Give her 
three cheers;^ ^ but I could not help crying out, Please 


146 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 


don^t; my sister is here, and her husband is very much 
hurt.^^ So they were good enough to stop when they saw 
poor Amy^s white face, as Mr. Dyke and I almost lifted 
her out, and took her into the house, which was all warm 
and cheery, for Mrs. Bolton and Frances and Kose were 
there, and had got tea ready and all comfortable. Mrs. 
Bolton ran up and put her arms round and kissed and 
hugged and cried over me, for it seems they had a terrible 
alarm; some one came down from the station and said the 
theater was on fire, and all the children in it burned or 
stified in trying to get out. Some of the mothers had set 
out like mad things, and the first relief they had was when 
Lord Brookfield came galloping up and said all were safe 
and on the way home. 

Mr. Hardwicke made everybody come away except gov- 
erness Betsy. Eose begged hard to stay and sleep on the 
couch, but her father was glad to take her home with him, 
and quiet was what he wanted. Indeed, I believe Mr. 
Hardwicke made Mrs. Bolton promise not to make us talk. 
And how good she was! I doubt whether either of us 
would have touched a morsel if she had not been there, 
Amy was so spent, and I so sick with what I had seen; but 
there was no disappointing her when she took such pains 
with the rashers and the eggs she had got, and coaxed us 
like a mother, and the food and tea really did us both a 
great deal of good. Then she helped me get my sister to 
bed like a little child, and would have done the same by 
me, only I wanted a little time for sitting still and alone 
before there could be any composing myself to rest, after 
those fearful sights, and that great mercy. 


OUK NEW MISTRESS. 


147 


Neither of us slept much that night. Closing my eyes 
brought back the sight of the poor children rushing into 
that passage where they became one mass of death, and the 
sound of the stifled screams would ring in my ears; and 
Amy must have been as wakeful, judging by her breath- 
ing. 

But in the darkness of the late morning, after we 
heard the clock strike flve, the fresh day seemed to have 
begun, and we felt able to talk. 

Amy told me all about herself, and how grieved she had 
been to leave me in that sudden way, and never to write to 
me; but her husband had been made so angry by my try- 
ing to keep them apart, that he had forced a promise from 
her never to hold any communication with me without his 
consent, and his change of name had greatly lessened my 
chances of hearing them. 

It seems that he had quitted the panorama people, and 
engaged himself to act as carpenter and scene-shifter to 
this itinerant company. He found that there was a good 
deal of work to be done in which Amy, from her training 
in the upholstery business, could be useful; and he also 
hoped to make her voice profltable. He had invested my 
ten pounds in the affair, and was in part proprietor. So 
he came and claimed her, and she was only too glad to go 
with him; and though shocked at the manner of leaving 
me, I don^t think she could quite forgive my having kept 
my meeting with him a secret from her. 

How wives do love ! It is enough to make any one dread 
opening the heart so as to admit such chains of bondage. 
And yet every one is not like Fred; there are some much 


148 


OUK NEW MISTRESS. 


more worthy, who would never make a bad use of such 
affection. 

Amy declares that throughout the six weeks they have 
been together, he has been as kind and good to her as pos- 
sible; and no doubt he has been enough on his good be- 
havior to allow her to think so. He was much disappoint- 
ed to find that her voice, though sweet, is far too weak to 
be used in the theatricals; and she declares that he was 
wonderfully kind, and not at all angry. 

No, indeed, for whom had he to thank for the spoiling 
of that voice? 

However, she had a great deal to do, as check-taker, in 
contriving stage furniture and making costumes, and 
teaching the children their parts. Pour belonged to the 
manager, and three had been hired or bought somehow or 
other, and she had been much shocked at their ignorance 
of all that is good, and she hopes in time to teach them a 
little more. She has taught the little girl who waits on 
her, and who acted Eed Kidinghood, to say her prayers. 

Of course it is a poor little company, living from hand 
to mouth, and saving whatever cost they can. The man- 
ager fixes where they go, and actually Amy did not know 
she was coming to Overbury till she saw the name at the 
station; and then her husband, guessing what she was 
thinking of, forbade her letting me know or trying to see 
me. Most likely he threatened and raged; but she did not 
tell me, any more than she did that if he had ever taken 
the pledge, he had certainly not kept it. 

The company had hired this theater for more than they 
could well afiord, and finding more entrances than they had 


OUE NEW JVIISTKESS. 


149 


doorkeepers and check-takers for, they closed up the door 
leading direct to the stairs to the gallery where we were. 
Amy, being in charge of the stage properties, and one of 
the very few careful people belonging to the concern, was 
in charge of the keys. She says she did ask if it were not 
dangerous, and contrary to the regulations, to have only 
one exit to the galleries. But she was laughed at; it was 
what had been done many times, and no harm had come 
of it. She was placed as check-taker at the end of the 
passage to the other gallery, so that she watched us come 
in though we could not see her. When every one had 
arrived, and the performance was in progress, she set off to 
carry away the checks, and to make her way to the actors^ 
entrance, in case her help should be wanted in the green- 
room, as it often was; for she must have been a generally 
useful person to them all. 

Going slowly down the stairs she had got into the street 
when she heard the cry of Fire!^^ and saw people pour- 
ing out of the door leading from the stalls. She could 
not possibly get through them, and while holding by the 
wall she heard some one say, The fire is a false alarm; 
the panic is the danger. 

Then with horror she thought of me, whom she had 
seen, though I could not see her. She made her way to 
the door just as Mr. Pierce was hurrying to see what could 
be done, and sent him to our rescue. The children had 
begun to come down, and she was reassured about me, 
when one of their troop came in search of her, and told her 
of her husband^s accident. She found him dreadfully 
burned with paraffine, and in such a state that nothing 


150 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 


could be done but to carry him to the hospital; but she de- 
clares that she was too much occupied with him to know 
how it happened. 

In truth she will not understand^ poor love. The fact 
was that poor Fred had been indulging in glass after glass, 
and did not quite know what he was about. He fell into a 
dispute with the Wolf while arranging the scene in the 
grandmo therms cottage; swore he could play Wolf much 
better, and would do, being one of the proprietors; tried 
to pull Wolf out of bed; broke it down; and upset the can 
of paraffine, so that the drapery caught fire. The other 
man escaped, but Fred was entangled. Then the cry of 
‘^Fire!^^ rose, and instantly every one was rushing out. 
Those in the stalls escaped easily, as the door opened with- 
out difficulty; but that turn in the steep stone stairs made 
an awful trap, as it were. Some one fell; others stumbled 
over; the place became choked with struggling creatures, 
mostly girls, big lads, and some children. There can not 
be less than fifty killed, and many, many more terribly in- 
jured. This was the history Mr. Pierce told me, while she 
was out of hearing. He has borrowed a trap to drive her 
to the station, and will bring her back in the evening if 
possible, or let me know about her and if I should go to 
her. I had to stay at home on account of the school, but 
the vicar has been in to say he had thought it best for us 
all that there should be a holiday. The quiet is a great 
comfort. But does Amy want me? 

After all it was not much quiet; so many people have 
come in to see me and talk. I am glad Amy is out of their 
way. Rose was here before seven this morning, and begs 


OUR KEW MISTRESS. 


151 


with tears to wait on me as she does when she sleeps here. 
Then came the two Miss Freewards, wanting to hear all, 
and trembling; and Miss Margaret fairly crying. When 
they got up to go away Miss Free ward said, I am afraid 
we have done you a great injustice, and / can only ask your 
pardon. 

I could only say, Oh, ma^am!^^ and something about 
being sure they meant to act for the best; and then Miss 
Margaret actually caught my hands and kissed me, and her 
sister did the same, so kindly that I was quite overcome, 
and could not help shedding some tears too. 

It is all warm feeling, I suppose, for having kept the 
children still; such a matter does not in the least contra- 
dict all that I am dismissed for. 

January 22. — Amy came back in the evening and 
brought her things, that good friend looking after her as 
he had promised. There is no knowing yet how Fredas 
burns will turn out; he does not seem to suffer much, but 
is in a torpid, half-conscious state. If he had more pain 
they say it would be a better sign. I am to go in with her 
to-day, as I am wanted at the inquest. I can^t think why. 
Poor Bertha is much in the same state. 

8 0 ^ clock , — Amy is safe in bed. She takes comfort that 
her husband does not suffer, but the nurse told me that this 
is a very bad sign, and that he is not in a state of health 
likely to recover; but, as he does not know her, we have 
persuaded her to rest to-morrow unless she is sent for. 
There is a little more hope for Bertha, but there is no 
knowing yet. Poor Miss Norton was quite dead, and 
Arthur is broken-hearted, for she never would have gone 


152 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 


to the theater if he had not teased her to take Bertha. 
Annie Knowles was sent for to the inquest too, for it seems 
that some one had found out that no one but ourselves in- 
side that dreadful place remained still, or had any notion 
of what was going on. Eose has got it into her head that 
we were like the crew of the Birkenhead, and murmurs 
to herself As mute as on parade,^'’ which we were not. 
The children had learned and paraphrased the poem upon 
that wreck, and Eose says she thought of it, and it may 
have helped some of the others, though they do not live in 
imagination and fancy, as she does. Yet perhaps the sense 
of the holy force of discipline ^^came to help them to be 
so good and obedient. Annie Knowles answered all she 
was asked very nicely, and was told she was a good girl, 
and was thanked for her evidence. Both she and I had to 
tell what we saw and heard from our places, and I got 
much more complimenting than it seems to me could be 
deserved; for when there was no fire visible, and scarcely 
any smoke, surely any person of common sense would know 
that the greater danger was in the choked passages; and 
as to the discipline, every trained mistress is instructed in 
that. The blame rests with those who would not take pre- 
cautions for egress; and chiefly, alas! with my poor broth- 
er-in-law, who is indeed paying the penalty. The verdict 
could only be Accidental death, but with strong cen- 
sure on the proprietors of the company for the fastening up 
of the doors. Amy says it will be the ruin of them, and I 
can not but feel that they deserve it; only when people 
have often done risky things without damage they forget 
that there is almost the guilt of murder incurred by care- 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 


153 


lessness of life. I am glad no one thought of sending for 
Amy to ask about the closing of the entrances. There 
were two newspaper gentlemen about, and both Annie and 
I were put through an interrogation much worse than the 
coroner^s, though one of them gave her half a sovereign 
afterward; ^and the other, seeing, I suppose, that that 
would not do for me, assured me that he should have great 
pleasure in doing full justice to my heroic conduct! I 
nearly asked him to let it alone. I am almost thankful for 
our preservation, but I hate all this fuss about the way 
of it. 

23rd ■ — The vicar gave thanks at chm’ch for the great 
mercy vouchsafed; and preached on the text, The Lord 
shall preserve thy going out and thy coming in, from this 
time forth for evermore.'’’ It was very beautiful, and 
tears were shed by many, no doubt as they thought how 
different it is here from the churches and schools at Over- 
bury, where they say there is not one Sunday-school that 
has not lost some of its scholars. 

His lordship came up and made me shake hands after 
church, and said he must thank me again for having 
spared him what would have been a lifelong trouble to 
him, and told me that he hoped I should not leave the 
school I managed to such good purpose. 

I don’t know about that, for the same objections must 
exist; and anybody with a little firmness and common 
sense would have done the same. But it will be* harder 
now to part; every one is so very kind. Miss Freeward and 
all. Mr. Bryce sent a sweetbread with his compliments 
(those must have been Mr. Bryce’s putting in). It is a 


154 OUR KEW MISTRESS. 

funny sort of a testimonial, but it really was good for Amy 
to have it to dress. She says I have grown thin, and she 
is sure I have not attended properly to my food while she 
was away, and that she shall see to it when she leaves me 
again upon Fredas recovery. 

26^7^. — His recovery — that was my last word, though 
written with doubts whether she were not deceiving herself 
with false hopes. And so she was. A change came on 
that very evening, and he died at one o^clock that night, 
without ever showing any consciousness. Poor Amy 
mourns over not having gone in the last day, but they all 
say it was well she did not, as he was quite past taking any 
notice, and there was much that it would be a misery to 
her to recollect. He had no one belonging to him but 
ourselves. Our father took him home when he was twelve 
years old, when my uncle died, and treated him like a son, 
but he had been used to idle company, and had learned 
habits and tastes there was no overcoming, though he had 
better times, and thus won poor Amy^s whole heart. Fa- 
ther prevented their marrying as long as he lived, but after 
he died Fred had a fit of steadiness long enough to per- 
suade Amy that father would have consented. But why 
should I write this when I only want to be in charity with 
the dead? He was a fine-looking, clever man, and the 
vicar reminds me that love has clearer eyes than dislike, so 
that Amy may not be blind when she declares that he was 
really wishing to do better, and grieving when his reso- 
lution gave way, as it always did. No one knows what 
may have passed while he seemed senseless, and the nurse 
says there were mutterings about good wife, and mercy. 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 


155 


and forgiveness. It is a very poor shred of comfort, but it 
is all my poor sister has to lay hold of, so who would take 
it from her? 

The hospital people were in haste for the funeral, and I 
have enough left to pay the expenses. The vicar yielded, 
not very willingly perhaps, to Amy^s fervent desire that 
Ered should lie here, with a strange feeling as if this quiet 
church-yard, under the lime trees, could give him peace. 
I am not sure whether she has taken in that we are not 
likely to stay here. I tried to tell her so, but she was so 
distracted with grief that she did not seem to hear or 
understand, while it is all I can do not to feel freed from 
a burden. 

We laid him in the grave at seven o^clock this morning. 
The vicar chose the time because it would be the quietest 
of all, and no one knew of it but the few who brought the 
coffin from the station, where it had been left by the train 
at night. It was very cold, dark and strange, and it 
seemed to freeze up even poor Amy^s tears, but when I 
looked up and saw the light of dawn, and that beautiful 
morning star in the east, I felt as if there were a new and 
better beginning in store for her. She says she likes to be 
alone, and though perhaps it is because she feels that my 
sympathy with her can not be perfect, it is well that I 
should be free for my duties. 


166 


CUE NEW MISTEESS. 


CHAPTEE XX. 

A BUDGET OF LETTEES. 

The Earl of Brookfield to Lady Mary Brooke, 

January 20. 

My deae Polly^ — You have made us all make asses of 
ourselves by turning off the best school-mistress in the 
county, who has saved the lives of all your dearly beloved 
children. I never felt so like a fool in my life as when 
Larpent congratulated us upon our treasure. Catch me 
listening to womanfolk again. You will hear enough 
about it from the others, and it makes me sick to think 
about it. I shall never forget the relief it was to see the 
little crowd in the street, and to find they were our own 
lot. It was by her own fault that poor Hewitt ^s girl was 
not safe with them. I am afraid hers is a bad case. 

Your affectionate B. 

Miss Freeward to Lady Mary, 

January 20. 

My deae Lady Maey, — You will see the history of 
this dreadful affair in the newspapers. We have just 
heard the whole in detail from those who were so merci- 
fully saved; and while Margaret writes that to you I wish 
to ask whether it is not best to retract our decision as to 
Miss Martin, who, there is no doubt, actually saved the 
lives of our children by her presence of mind. We are 
much struck with the modest — nay, I may say devout 


OUK NEW MISTRESS. 


157 


manner in which she seems to feel the matter; and I con- 
fess that our representation to you was perhaps hasty, and 
founded too much upon rumor. Indeed, before this I had 
found it both strange and provoking, that whereas it 
seemed that the general voice of the parish was against 
her, no sooner was notice given to her than the cry was, 

We shall never have so good a mistress, and Betsy Bol- 
ton, who had more complaints than any one else, came 
very near scolding me for our decision. I thought then 
that she only spoke out of compassion and dangerous in- 
difference to character, but I have since come to the con- 
clusion that she had previously only been grumbling out of 
loyalty to her mother, without any notion that her words 
could have consequences. All the allegations about the 
sister were plainly exaggerated, and as there is very little 
hope of the poor man^s recovery, the great objection 
would be removed. I confess I felt uncomfortable at act- 
ing in opposition to the vicar ^s express judgment, nor 
should I have done so but that I thought him deceived by 
a plausible woman, and there had certainly been a wanfc of 
openness. Your brother is most eager to recall the dis- 
missal, but Mr. Hardwicke doubts whether dt will now be 
of any use, as he has had a letter to inquire about Miss 
Martin with a view to an excellent position, and of course 
her conduct on this occasion will be all in her favor. 

Poor Bertha Hewitt^s willfulness seems to have led her 
into this misfortune. I am afraid she has been conceited 
and spoiled, and that the naughtiness I attributed to bad 
example was really the spirit of opposition to discipline. 
Poor dear child, I can not say much of her faults while she 


158 


OUR KEW MISTRESS. 


still hovers between life and death, but from what Betsy 
tells me, and indeed I lately saw myself, I am afraid this 
was the case. May God’s mercy spare the dear child. 
Mrs. Shepherd enlarges on the improvement in Rose, who 
is much more steady and useful than ever before, and de- 
voted to Miss Martin. Altogether I think we have been 
mistaken, and I feel greatly humbled at the thought. 

Yours affectionately, 

Carolii^e Freeward. 

Lady Mary to Miss Freeioard, 

January 24 . 

My dear Caroline, — My poor dear children! The 
horror of the thing quite haunts me, and I can never be 
thankful enough for the preservation of our own, or grate- 
ful enough to that sensible mistress. I am sorry there was 
such a feeling against her, but I do not 'wonder that you 
were swayed by it. Pray do as you and Mr. Hardwicke 
think best; indeed, it is really absurd .to write as if I had a 
voice. I wish I could come down, but my poor aunt can 
not spare me, and* I must write to the vicar. How 
ashamed I am of having had any share in overriding him. 
I do hope the mistress will stay. 

Yours ever affectionately, 

M. 0. B. 

LOG-BOOK. 

— One of the advertisers in the School Guardian 
has written asking for my testimonials, offering a very 


OUR KEW MISTRESS. 


159 


high salary. I went to the vicarage to ask Mr. Hardwicke 
to write, and he smiled, and said, I doubt whether they 
will be required. Miss Martin — that is, if you can overlook 
the treatment you have received.-’^ 

I could only say, ‘‘ Thank you, sir; I had rather stay 
here than anywhere.^'' “ This is informal,^^ he said, 
laughing; we managers are going to meet this after- 
noon, but, let me tell you, our minds were pretty well 
made up, even before that poor man^s death. You had 
outweighed any possible brother-in-law. 

And by and by, just as I had dismissed the school, he 
came with the eldest Miss Freeward to tell me that the 
managers begged me to consider their notice as withdrawn. 

Mr. Hardwicke, however, added that he knew the offer I 
had received from that town school was of a much higher 
salary than can be afforded here, and that there would be 
several assistants under me, so that the managers could 
not complain if I decided on accepting it. I asked leave 
to answer in the morning, for though my own wishes are 
altogether here, Amy must be consulted, and she may 
quite possibly feel that she has not been well used here, 
and may like to begin in a new place. This is a voluntary 
school that is offered to me, and church teaching is a 
stipulation; otherwise I should not give it a second 
thought, but it would be worse than ever to leave this 
place now. 

— Happily Amy is of the same mind. She could 
not bear the idea of going away from her husband^s grave, 
to say nothing of her dread of a fresh beginning. So I 
have thankfully given in my answer that here we stay, and 


160 


OUR NEW MISTRESS. 


it is great happiness to see the joy this produced in the 
children, and the kind welcome from every one else. 

March 28 . — The schedules are come in after the inspec- 
tion. We have passed 90 per cent., and everybody is in 
excellent spirits, but I trust to do better next year. I 
wonder whether Bertha will ever be able to return? I saw 
her on Saturday, and she is longing for it, but, though her 
recovery is wonderful, she is still very frail, and can hardly 
walk even with crutches. Lady Mary is sending her to a 
Convalescent Home, as sea air is prescribed for her. She 
asked me with tears to forgive all the trouble she had 
given me, and assured me she will, be a very different girl 
if she ever is allowed to come back. 

Amy is growing more cheerful. I believe, though she 
will not endure to hear me say so, that the peacefulness of 
having it all over is better for her than the wearing, pining 
suspense. Though of course she keeps very quiet she 
does not shrink from everybody, for, since all know her to 
be a widow and not a deserted wife, the miserable sense of 
shame seems to have passed from her. All is very pleasant 
now; there is a feeling of confidence, friendliness and 
working together among all; and the children, though of 
course sometimes idle and naughty, are on the whole doing 

well, and some are very good. 

^ ^ ^ ^ 

Jmie 19. — Philip Pierce has a new situation, twenty 
miles off. When I came in this evening I found that he 
and Amy had laid their heads together, and they both 
declared that there could be no reason that he should not 


OUR 2^EW MISTRESS. 


161 


go away engaged to me. I have not set down all his kind 
looks and words all through these months, nor how they 
made my heart beat and flutter; it seemed so silly to do so, 
or to dwell on them, but no gentleman could have been 
more delicate in not harassing me while I was watching 
over Amy^s trouble, nor taking advantage of what he did 
for us at Overbury. He says he was content while he was 
living here to watch and get a v/ord and look from me now 
and then, and to believe that I did care for him a little; 
but, now he he is going out of reach, he wants to know 
that we belong to one another, and to be able to write. 
He does not ask for more for flve or seven years, or when- 
ever we may have put by enough for it to be prudent. 
And— .-and — I am very — very happy indeed. He is the 
dearest fellow in the world, and Amy says it would be 
quite wicked to put him ofl any longer, so I won^t try to 
cross my own heart. He is so good and true — a really 
religious man — a staff to rest on. The thought is like 
sunshine on before me. I must try to be worthy of him, 
my own Philip — my own, I hope and believe, now and 
forever. 

Bertha to Miss Emily. 

Brookfield, July 1. 

Hoetored akd dear Madame, — After all your kind- 
ness you will be glad to hear that I reached home safely, 
tod father and mother could hardly believe their eyes'; I 
look so much better than when I went away. They thank 
you and all the ladies for the kindness and care I have re- 
ceived. I could not write till to-day; there were so many 


162 


OUR KEW MISTRESS. 


to see. Frances looks quite a woman and Eose has her 
hair turned up. Oh^ wasn^t it nice to see them again! 
Miss Martin kissed me, as she did before I went away, and 
I may begin at school after the summer holidays; they will 
not let me go before, so that my leg may be quite strong. 
I rested in Miss Martinis house before going home. Mrs. 
Martin looked very pretty in her weeds, and gentle and 
pale. She gave me some tea and nice little hot cakes, and 
seemed as if she could not do enough for me. It seems 
strange now how we all could believe such nonsense and 
be so set against them, and governess Betsy won^t believe 
she ever had a fault to find with them. 

I do not know if it is a secret, but Eose told me that 
Miss Martin is engaged to Mr. Pierce. It is quite right, 
Eose says, that she should marry their deliverer, though 
they will have to wait for years and years to come; so I 
hope I shall go on with her as long as I am a pupil teacher, 
and I do hope to show that I am a better and wiser girl for 
this long illness, and all your kindness to me. I remain 
your loving and thankful 

Bertha Hewitt. 


THE EHD. 


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chette Carey. 1st half 

65 Nellie’s Memories. Rosa Nou- 

chette Carey. 2d half 

66 Repented at Leisure. By Char- 

lotte M. Braeme 

67 Wooed and Married. By Rosa 

Nouchette Otrey. 1st half. .. 

67 Wooed and Married. By Rosa 

N ouchette Carey. 2d hal f . . . 

68 The IMerry Men. By Robert 

Louis Stevenson 

69 Not Like Other Girls. By Rosa 

Nouchette Carey 

70 Othinar. Ry“Ouida.” 1st half 

70 Othmar. By“Ouida.” 2d half 

71 Robert Ord’s Atonement. By 

Rosa Nouchette Carey 


72 Sunshine and Roses. Bj^ Char- 

lotte M. Braeme 25 

73 For Lilias. By Rosa Nouchette 

Carey. First half 25 

73 For Lilias. Bv Rosa Nouchette 

Carey. Second half 25 

74 Les Mis6rables. By Victor 

Plugo. Parti 25 

74 Les Mis6rables. By Victor 

Hugo. Part II 25 

74 Les Mis6rables. By Victor 

Hugo. Part HI 25 

75 One Thing Needful. By Miss M. 

E. Bi addon 25 

76 The Masr.er Passion. By Flor- 

ence Marryat 25 

77 Marjorie. Chai lotte M. Braeme 25 

78 Under Two Flags. By “ Ouida” 25 

79 The Dark House. By George 

Manville Fenn 25 

80 The House on the Marsh. By 

Floience Warden 25 

81 In a Grass Country. By Mrs. H. 

Lovei t Cameron 25 

82 Why Not? B}’ Florence Marryat 25 

83 W^ea vers and \Veft; or. Love 

That Hath Us in His Net.” 

By Miss M. E. Braddon 25 

84 The professor. By Charlotte 

Bront6 25 

85 The Trumpet-Major. By Thomas 

Hardy 25 

86 The Dead Secret. Wilkie Collins 25 

87 Deldee: or. The Iron Hand. By 

Florence Warden 25 

88 Springhaven. R. D. Blackmore. 

First half ,... 25 

88 Springhaven. R. D. Blackmore. 

Second half 25 

89 A Vagrant WTfe. By Florence 

Warden 25 

90 Struck Down. By Hawdey Smart 25 

91 At the World’s Mercy By Flor- 

ence \Varden 25 

92 Claribel's Ijove Story ; or.Love’s 

Hidden Depths. By Charlotte 
M. Braeme 25 

93 The Shadow of a Sin. By Char- . 

lotte M. Braeme. 25 

94 Court Royal. By S. Baring- 

Gould... 25 

95 Faith and Unfaith. By “The 

Duchess” 25 

96 Cherry Ripe. By Helen B. 

Mathers 25 

97 Little d’u’penny. By S. Baring- 

Gould 25 

98 Cometh Up as a Flower. By 

Rhoda Broughton 25 

99 From Gloom to Sunlight. By 

Charlotte M. Braeme 25 

100 Redeemed by Love. By Char- 

' lotte M. Braeme 25 

101 A Woman’s War. By Charlotte 

M. Braeme 25 

102 ’Twixt Smile and Tear. By 

Charlotte M. Braeme 25 

103 Lady Diana’s Pride. By Char- 

lotte M. Braeme 26 


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104 Sweet Cymbeline. Bj’ Charlotte 

M. Braetne 25 

105 Tiie Belle of Lynn. By Char- 

lotte M. Braeme 25 

106 Dawn. By H. Rider Hao:g:ard . . 25 

107 Th«- I'iiiled Venus. By F. Anstey 25 

108 Addie’s Husband; or. Through 

Clouds to Sunshine 25 

109 The Rabiji’s Si>ell. By Stuart 

C. Cuniberland 25 

110 Coinin’ Thro’ the Rye. By 

Helen B. Mathers '. 25 

111 Phyllis. By The Duchess ”.. . 25 

112 Tinted Vapours. By J. Maclaren 

Cobban 25 

113 A Hnunted Life. By Charlotte 

M Braeme 25 

114 The Woodlauders. By Thomas 

Hardy 25 

115 Wee Wide. By Rosa Nouchette 

Carey 25 

116 Worth Winning. By Mrs. H. 

Lovett Cameron 25 

117 Sabina Zembra. By William 

Black. First half 25 

117 Sabina Zemlira. By William 

Black. Second half 25 

118 For Maimie’s Sake. By Grant 

Allen 25 

119 Good-bye, Sweetheart I By 

Rhoda Broughton 25 

120 Dolores. By Mrs. Forrester 25 

121 Rossmoyne. By “The Duchess” 25 

122 A Girl’s Heart 25 

123 Garrison Gossip: Gathered in 

Blankhamptou. By John 
Strange Winter 25 

124 File No. 113. By EmileGaboriau 25 

125 King Solomon’s Wives. By 

Hyder Ragged 25 

126 He. By the author of “King 

Solomon’s Wives” 25 

127 " The Romance of a Poor Young 

Blan. By Octave Feuillet 25 

128 Hilda. By Charlotte M. Braeme 25 

129 The Master of the Mine. By 

Robert Buchanan 25 

130 Portia. By “The Duchess ”... 25 

131 Matt: A Tale of a Caravan. 


132 Mr.s. Geoffrey. “ The Duchess ” 25 

133 June. By Mrs. Forrester 25 

134 In Durance Vile. By “ The 

Duchess” 25 

135 Diana Carew. Mrs. Forrester. 25 

136 Lo^ s, Lord Berresford. By 

“The Duchess” 25 

137 My Lord and My Lady. By Mrs. 

Forrester 25 

138 Airy Fairy Lilian. By “ The 

Duchess” 25 

139 Viva. By Mrs. Forrester 25 

140 Molly Bawn. “ The Duchess ” 25 

141 Rhona. By Mrs. Forreste,r. . . . 25 

142 Beauty’s Daughters. By “ The 

Duchess” 25 

143 A Maiden All Forlorn. By “ The 

Duchess” 25 


The Mystery of Colde Fell; or, 
Not Proven. By Charlotte M. 

Braeme 25 

Borderland Jessie Fothcrgill 25 
A Prince of Darkness. By 

Florence Warden 25 

Roy and Viola. By Mrs. For- 
rester 25 

Doris. By “ The Duchess ” — 26 
Mignon. By Mrs. Forrester... 25 
The Crime of Christmas Day. . . 25 
The Squire’s Darling. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme 25 

Robur the Conqueror. By Jules 

Verne 26 

A Dark Marriage Morn. By 

Charlotte M. Braeme 25 

Within an Inch of His Life. By 

Emile Gaboriau 25 

Other People's Money. By 

Emile Gaboriau 25 

Gold Elsie. By E. Marlitt ^ 

Her Second Love. By Charlotte 

M. Braeme .' 25 

East Lynne'. By Mrs. Henry 

Wood'. First half 25 

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Wood. Second half 25 

On Her Wedding Morn. By 

Charlotte M. Braeme 25 

Allan Quaterrnain. By H. Rider 

Haggard 25 

The Duke’s Secret. By Char- 
lotte M Braeme 25 

Old Ma’m’selle’s Secret. By E. 

Marlitt 25 

The Shattered Idol. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme 25 

A Modern Circe. By “ The Duch- 
ess ” 25 

Handy Andy. A Tale of Irish 

Life. By Samuel Lover 25 

'I’he Earl’s Error. By Charlotte 

M. Braeme 25 

Scheherazade: A Loudon 
Night’s Entertainment. By 

Florence Warden 25 

The Duchess. By “ The Duch- 
ess ” 25 

IMarvel. By “ The Duchess ”.. . 25 
Driver Dallas. By J. S. Winter. 25 
Home Again. By George Mac- 
donald 25 

The Frozen Pirate. By W. Clark 

Russell 25 

Faust. By Goethe 25 

The Three Guardsmen. By Alex- 
ander Dumas 25 

Moths. By“Ouida” 25 

The Moonstone. Wilkie Collins 25 
Jane Eyre. Charlotte Bront6. . 25 
Old Myddleton s Money. By 

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Harry Lorrequer. By Charles 

Lever 25 

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201 A Life Interest. By Mrs. Alex- 

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202 The Lady of the Lake. By Sir 

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203 The I3th Hussars. By Emile 

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204 A Queer Race. By William 

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205 Only the Governess. By Rosa 

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207 Vendetta! or. The Story of One 

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222 Mr. Meeson’s Will. By H. Rider 

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223 The Legacy of Cain. By Wilkie 

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225 The Strange Adventures of a 

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226 The Honorable Mrs. Vereker. 

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ALPHABETICAL LIST. 


t02 Abbot, The. Sequel to “ The 
Monastery.” By Sir Walter 

Scott 20 

788 Absentee, The. An Irish Story. 

By Maria Edgeworth 20 

829 Actor’s Ward, The. By the au- 
thor of “A Fatal Dower”... 20 
36 Adam Bede. By George Eliot. 

First half 20 

36 Adam Bede. By George Eliot. 

Second half 20 

388 Addie’s Husband; or, Through 
Clouds to Sunshine. By the 
author of “ Love or Lands?”. 10 
5 Admiral's Ward, The. By Mrs. 
Alexander 20 

127 Adrian Bright. By Mrs. Caddy 20 
500 Adrian Vidal. By W. E. Norris 20 
477 Affinities. By Mrs. Campbell- 

Praed 10 

413 Afloat and Ashore. By J. Fen- 
imore Cooper 20 

128 Afternoon, and Other Sketch- 

es. By“Ouida” 10 

603 Agnes. By Mrs. Oliphant. First 

half 20 

603 Agnes. By Mrs. Oliphant. Sec- 
ond half 20 

218 A^nes Sorel. By G. P. R. James 20 
i4 Airy Fairy Lilian. By “The 

Duchess” 10 

274 Alice, Grand Duchess of Hesse, 
Princess of Great Britain and 
Ireland. Biographical Sketch 

and Letters 10 

636 Alice Lorraine. By R. D. Black- 

more. 1st half 20 

336 Alice Lorraine. By R. D. Black- 
more. 2d half 20 


650 Alice; or. The Mysteries. (ASe- 

S uel to “ Ernest Maltravers.”! 

ly Sir E. Bulwer Lytton 20 

462 Alice’s Adventures in Wonder- 
land. By Lewis Carroll. With 
forty -two illustrations by 

John Tenniel 20 

989 Allan Quatermain. By H. 

Rider Haggard 20 

97 All in a Garden Fair. By Wal- 
ter Besant 20 

484 Although He Was a Lord, and 
Other Tales. Mrs. Forrester. 10 
47 Altiora Peto. By Laurence Oli- 
phant 20 

253 Amazon, The. CarlVosmaer 10 
447 American Notes. By Charles 

Dickens 20 

176 An April Day. By Philippa 

Prittie Jephson 10 

403 An English Squire. By C. R. 

Coleridge 20 

897 Ange. By Florence Marryat . . 20 
648 Angel of the Bells, The. By F. 

Du Boisgobey 20 

889 An Inland Voyage. By Robert 

Louis Stevenson 10 

263 An Ishraaelite. By Miss M. E. 

Braddon 20 

154 Annan Water. By Robert Bu- 
chanan 20 

200 An Old Man’s Love. By An- 
thony Trollope 10 

750 An Old Story of My Farming 
Days. Fritz Reuter. 1st half 20 
750 An Old Story of My Farming 
Days. Fritz Reuter. 2d half 20 
93 Anthony Trollope’s Autobiog- 
raphy 20 


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THE SEASIDE LIBEAKY—Pocket Edition, 


995 All UiHuxtura.1 Bondage, and 
That Beautiful Lady. By 
Charlotte M. Braeine, author 

of ‘‘ Dora Thorne ” 

843 Archie Lovell. By Mrs. Annie 

Edwards 

395 Archipelago on Fire, The. By 

Jules Verne ;. 

632 Arden Court. Barbara Graham 
1029 Armadale. By Wilkie Collins. 

First half 

1029 Armadale. By Wilkie Collins. 

Secc id half. 

247 Anno rer’s Prentices, The. By 

Chanette M. Yonge 

813 Army Society. Life in a Garri- 
son Town. By J. S. Winter.. 
990 Arnold's Promise. By Char- 
lotte M. Lraeme, author of 

“ Dora Thorne ” 

224 Arum A JVIotto, The. By Mary 

Cecil Hay 

347 As Avon Flows. By Henry Scott 

Vi ice. 

541 “ As it Fell Upon a Day,” by 
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Jac. , by Walter Besant 

560 Asphodel. Miss M. E. Braddon 
540 At a ] ligh Price. By E. Werner 
352 At Any Cost. By Edvv. Garrett 
564 Vt Bay. By Mrs. Alexander. . 
528 Ai His Gates. By Mrs. Oliphant 
192 At t ;e World’s Mercy. By F. 

W' rden 

287 At War With Herself. By Char- 
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923 At War ViTith Herself. By Char- 
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737 Aunt Rachel. By David Christie 

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70 Aiir dian; or. Rome in the 
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Wars 

74 Aur ra Floyd. By Miss M. E. 

Braddon 

997 Australian Aunt, The. By Mrs. 

Alexander 

730 Au.tobiourraphy of Benjamin 
I ranklin, The 


328 Babiole, the Pretty Milliner. By 
F. Du Boisgobey. First half. 
328 Baiiiole, the Pretty Milliner. By 
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‘ 241 Baby’s Grandmother, The. By 

L. V. Walford 

342 Baby. The. By “ The Duchess ” 

6ll Babylon. By Cecil Power 

443 Baciielor of the Alliany, The.. 
583 Bachelor Vicar of Newforth, 
The. By Mrs. J. Harcourt Roe 
871 Bachelor’s Blunder, A. By W. 

E. Norris 

65 Back to the Old Home. By 

Mary Cecil Hay 

847 Bad to Beat. By Hawley Smart 


834 Ballroom Repentance, A. By 

Mrs. Annie Edwards 20 

551 Barbara Heathcote's Trial. By 
Rosa N. Carey. First half... 20 
551 Barbara Heathcote’s Trial. By 
Rosa N. Carey. Second half. 20 
99 Barbara’s History. By Amelia 

B. Edwards 20 

234 Barbara , or, Splendid Misery. 

By Miss M. E. Braddon 20 

91 Barnaby Rudge. By Charles 

Dickens. First half 20 

91 Barnaby Rudge. By Charles 

Dickens. Second half 20 

653 Barren Title, A. T. W. Speight 10 
731 Bayou Bride, The. By Mrs. 

Mar 3 " E. Bryan 20 

794 Beaton’s Bargain. By Mrs. Al- 
exander 20 

717 Beau Tancrede; or, the Mar- 
riage Verdict. By Alexander 

Dumas 20 

29 Beauty’s Daughters. By “The 


Duchess ” 10 

86 Belinda. By Rhoda Broughton 20 
929 Belie of Lynn, The: or, The 
Miller’s Daughter. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 

“ Dora Thorne ” 20 

593 Berna Boyle. By Mrs. J. H. 

Riddell 20 

581 Betrothed, The. (I Promessi 
Sposi,) Alessandro Manzoni. 20 
862 Betty’s Visions. By Rhoda 
Broughton 10 


620 Between the Heather and the 
Northern Sea. By M. Linskill 20 
466 Between Two Loves. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 

“ Dora Thorne ”. 20 

476 Between Two Sins; or. Married 
in Haste. By Cliarlotte M. 
Braeme, author of “Dora 

Thorne” 10 

483 Betwixt My Love and Me. By 
the author of “A Golden Bar” 10 
308 Beyond Pardon. By Charlotte 
M. Braeme, author of “ Dora 


Thorne” 20 

257 Beyond Recall. By Adeline Ser- 
geant 10 

553 Birds of Prey. By Miss M. E. 

Braddon 20 

320 Bit of Human Nature, A. By 

David Christie Murray 10 

411 Bitter Atonement, A. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 

“ Dora Thorne ” 20 

430 Bitter Reckoning, A. By the au- 
thor of “By Crooked Paths ” 10 
353 Black Dwarf. The. By Sir 

Walter Scott 20 

302 Blatchford Bufjtsegt, The. By 
Hugh Conw.'^y, author of 

“ Called Back ” 10 

106 Bleak House. By Charles Dick- 
ens. First half 20 

106 Bleak House. By Charles Dick- 
ens. Second half.,.. . ... - 20 


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968 Blossom and Fruit; or, Ma- 
daine’s Ward. By the author 

of Wedded Hands'” 

842 Blue-Stocking, A. By Mrs. An- 
nie Edwards 

492 Booties’ Baby; or, Mignon. By 

J. S. Winter. Illustrated 

935 Borderland. Jessie Fothergill. 
'429 Boulderstoue ; or. New Men 
and Old Populations. By 

William Sime 

830 Bound by a Spell. Hugh Con- 
way, author of “ Called Back” 
894 Bravo, The. By J. Fenimore 

Cooper 

987 Brenda Yorke. By Mary Cecil 
Hay. 

299 Bride from the Sea, A. By 

Charlotte M. Braeme, author 

of “ Dora Thorne ” 

862 Bride of Lammermoor, The. 

By Sir Walter Scott 

259 Bi ide of Monte-Cristo, The. A 
Sequel to “ The Count of 
Monte-Cristo.” -By Alexan- 
der Dumas 

1056 Bride of the Nile, The. By 
George Ebers, First half. . . 
1056 Bride of the Nile, The. By 
George Ebers. Second half.. 

300 Bridge of Love, A. By- Char- 

lotte .M. Braeme, author of 

“ Dora Thorne ” 

907 Bright Star of Life, The. By 

B. L. Farjeon 

642 Britta. By George Temple 

76 Broken Heart, A; or. Wife in 
Name Only. By Charlotte 
M. Braeme', author of ” Dora 

Tliorne ” 

54 Broken Wedding-Ring, A. By 
Cliarlotte M. Braeme, author 

of “ Dora Thorne ” 

898 Bulldog and Butterfly, and 
Julia and Her Romeo, by 
David Christie IWurray, and 
Romeo and Juliet, by William 

Black 

317 By Mead and Stream. By Chas. 

Gibbon 

58 By tlie Gate of the Sea. By D. 
Christie Murray 


739 Caged Lion, The. By Charlotte 

M. Yonge 

240 Called Back. By Hugh Conway 
602 Camiola: A Girl With a Fort- 
une. By Jusiiii McCarthy.... 
186 Canon’s Ward, The. By James 

Payn 

149 Captain’s Daughter, The. 

From the Russian of Pushkin 
159 Captain Norton’s l>iary, and 
A Moment of Madness. By 

Florence Marryat 

655 Cara Roma. By Miss Grant. . , 


711 Cardinal Sin, A. By Hugh 
Conway, author of “ Called 

a Back” 20 

502 Carriston’s Gif t. By Hugh Con- 
way, author of “Called Back ” 10 
917 Case of Reuben Malaclii, The. 

By H. Sutherland Edwards. . 10 
937 Cashel Byron’s Pi ofession. By 


George Bernard Shaw 20 

942 Cash on Delivery. By F. Du 

Boisgobey 20 

364 Castle Dangerous. By Sir Wal- 
ter Scott 10 

1001 Castle’s Heir, The; or, Lady 
Adelaide’s Oath. B}’’ Mrs. 

Henry Wood 20 

770 Castle of Otranto, The. By 

Horace Walpole 10 

746 Cavalry Life; or. Sketches and 
Stories in Barracks and Out. 

By J. S. Winter 20 

419 Chainbearer, The; or. The Lit- 
tlepage Manuscripts. By J. 

Fenimore Cooper 20 

1003 Chandos. By “ Ouida.’ ■ 1st 

half 20 

1003 Chandos. By “Ouida.” 2d 

half 20 

783 Chantry House. By Charlotte 
M. Yonge 20 


790 Chaplet of Pearls, The; or. The 
White and Black Ribaumonr.. 
Charlotte M. Yonge. 1st half 20 
790 Chaplet of Pearls, The ; or. The 
• Wiiite and Black Ribaumont. 
Charlotte M. Yonge. 2d half 20 
212 Charles O’Malley, the Irish 
Dragoon. By Charles Lever. 


First half 20 

212 Charles O’Malley, the Irish 
Dragoon. By Charles Lever. 

Second half 20 

554 Charlotte’s Inheritance. (A Se- 
quel to “ Birds of Prey.”) By 

Miss M. E. Braddou. . . 20 

61 Charlotte Temple. By Mrs. 

Rowson 10 

588 Cherry. By the author of “ A 

Great Mistake” 10 

713 “ Cherry Ripe.” By Helen B. 

Mathers 20 

719 Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage. 

By Lord Byron 10 

882 Children of Gibeon. By Walter 

Besant 20 

920 Child of the Revolution, A. By 
the author of “Mademoiselle 

Mori ” 20 

676 Child’s History of England, A. 

By Charles Dickens 20 

657 Christmas Angel. By B. L. Far- 
jeon 10 

631 Christowell. R. D. Blackmore 20 
507 Chronicles of the Canongate, 

and Other Stories. By Sir 
AValter Scott 10 

632 Clara Vaughan. By R. D. 

Blackmore 20 


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949 Claribel’s Love Story; or, 
Love’s Hidden Depths. By 
Charlotte M. Braeine, author 

of “ Dora Thorne ” 

1040 Clarissa’s Ordeal, By the au- 
thor of “A Great Mistake.” 

First half 

1040 Clarissa’s Ordeal, By the au- 
thor of ” A Great Mistake.” 

Second half 

33 Clique of Gold, The. By Emile 

Gahoriau '. 

782 Closed Door, The. By F. Du 

Bois{?obey. 1st half 

782 Closed Doo-, The. By F. Du 

BoiSiirobey. 2d half 

499 Cloven Foot, The. By Miss M. 

E. Braddon 

493 Colonel Enderby’s Wife. By 

Lucas Malet 

769 Cometh Up as a Flower, By 

Rhoda Broughton 

221 Coinin’ Thro’ the Rye. By 

Helen B. Mathers 

1013 Confessions of Gerald Est- 
court. The. By Florence Mar- 

ryat 

523 Consequences of a Duel, The. 

By F. Du Boisgobey 

547 Coquette’s Conquest, A. By 

Basil 

104 Coral Pin, The, By F. Du Bois- 
gobey. 1st half 

104 Coral Pin, The. By F. Du Bois- 
gobey. 2d half 

598 Corinna. By “Rita” 

262 Count of Monte-Cristo, The. 

By Alexander Dumas. Part I 
262 Count of Monte-Cristo, The. 

By Alexander Dumas. Part II 
979 Count’s Secret, The. By Emile 

Gaboriau. Parti 

979 Count’s Secret, The. By Emile 

Gaboriau. Part II 

687 Country Gentleman, A. By 

]\Irs. Oliphant 

590 Courting of Mary Smith, The. 

By F. W. Robinson 

787 Court Royal. A Story of Cross 
Currents. By S, Baring-Gould 
258 Cousins. By L. B. Walford... 
649 Cradle and Spade. By William 

Sime 

630 Cradock Nowell. By R. D. 

Blackmore. First half 

630 Cradock Nowell. By R. D. 

Blackmore. Second half 

938 Cranford. By Mrs. Gaskell. .. 
108 Cricket on the Hearth, The. 

By Charles Dickens 

376 Crime of Christmas Day, The. 
By the author of “ My Ducats 

and My Daughter ” 

706 Crimson Stain, A. By Annie 

Bradshaw 

629 Cripps, the Carrier. By R. D. 

Blackmore 

851 Cry of Blood, The. By F. Du 
Boisgobey. First half 


851 Cry of Blood, The. By F. Du 

Boisgobey. Second half 20 

504 Curly : An Actai’’s Story. By 
John Coleman. Illustrated. 10 
544 Cut by the County; or, Grace 
Darnel. Miss M. E. Braddon 10 
826 Cynic Fortune. By D. Christie 
Murray 20 

1025 Daisy’s Dilemma. By Mrs. H. 

Lovett Cameron 20 

446 Dame Durden. By “Rita”.. 20 
34 Daniel Deronda. By George 

Eliot. First half 20 

34 Daniel Deronda. By George 

Eliot. Second half 20 

301 Dark Days. By Hugh Conway 10 
609 Dark House, The: A Knot Un- 
raveled. By G. Manville Fenn 10 

1026 Dark Inheritance, A. By Mary 

t’ccil Hay 20 

975 Dark Marriage Morn, A. By 
Charlotte M. Braeme, author 

of “ Doi-a Thorne ” 20 

81 Daughter of Heth, A. By Will-' 

iam Blacks. 20 

251 Daughterof the Stars, The, and 
Other Tales. Hugh Conway, 

author of “ Called Back ” 10 

22 David Copperfield. By Charles 

Dickens. Vol. 1 20 

22 David Copperfield. By Charles 

Dickens. Vol. II 20 

959 Dawn. By H. Rider Haggard. 20 
527 Days of My Life, The. By Mrs. 

Oiiphant 20 

305 Dead Heart, A. By Charlotte 
M. Braeme, author of “ Dora 

Thorne ” 10 

374 Dead Man’s Secret, The; or. 

The Adventures of a Medical 
Student. By Dr, Jupiter Paeon 20 
567 Dead Men’s Shoes. By Miss M. 

E. Braddon 20 

946 Dead Secret, The. By Wilkie 

Collins 20 

286 Deldee; or. The Iron Hand. By 

F. Warden T... 20 

1028 Devout Lover, A ; or, A Wasted 

Love. By Mrs. H. Lovett Cam- 
eron 20 

115 Diamond Cut Diamond. By T. 

Adolphus Trollope 10., 

744 Diana Carew ; or. For a Wom- 
an's Sake. By Mrs. Forrester 20 
350 Diana of the Crossways. By 

George Meredith 10 

250 Diana’s Discipline; or, Sun- 
shine and Roses. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme 10 

478 Diavola; or. Nobody’s Daugh- 
ter. By Miss M. E. Braddon. 

Part 1 20 

478 Diavola; or. Nobody’s Daugh- 
ter. By Miss M. E. Braddon. 

Part II 20 

87 Dick Sand; or, A Captain at 
Fifteen. By Jules Verne — 20 
486 Dick’s Sweetheart. By “ The 
Duchess ” SO 


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THE SEASIDE LIBRAKY — Pocket Edition. 


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536 Dissolving Views. By Mrs. An- 
drew Lang 

385 Dita. By Lady Margaret Ma- 

jendie 

894 Doctor Cupid. By Rhoda 

Broughton 

594 Doctor Jacob. By Miss Betham- 

Ed wards 

108 Doctor Marigold. By Charles 

Dickens 

529 Doctor’s Wife, The. By Miss M. 

E. Braddon... 

721 Dolores. By Mrs. Forrester . . 
107 Dombey and Son. By Charles 

Dickens. First half 

107 Dombey and Son. By Charles 

Dickens. Second half 

282 Donal Grant. By George Mac- 
Donald 

671 Don Gesualdo. By “Ouida.”. 
779 Doom ! An Atlantic Episode. 

By Justin H. McCarthy, M.P. 
51 Dora Thorne. By Charlotte M. 

Braeme 

284 Doris. By “ The Duchess ”... 
820 Doris’s Fortune. By Florence 

Warden. 

230 Dorothy Forster. By Walter 

Besaut 

678 Dorothy’s Venture. By Mary 

Cecil Hay 

665 Dove in the Eagle’s Nest, The. 

By Charlotte M. Yonge 

585 Drawn Game, A. By Basil... 
1022 Diiven to Bay. By Florence 

Marryat 

1039 Driver Dallas. By John 

Strange Winter 

1035 Duchess, The. By “ The Duch- 
ess ” 

151 Ducie Diamonds, The. By C. 

Blatherwick 

549 Dudley Carleon ; or. The Broth- 
er’s Secret, and George Caul- 
field’s Journey. By Miss M. E. 

Braddon 

982 Duke’s Secret, The. By Char- 
" lotte M. Braeme, author of 

“ Dora Thorne” 

855 Dynamiter, The. By Robert 
Louis Stevenson and Fanny 
Van de Grift Stevenson 


8 East Lynne. By Mrs. Henry 

Wood. First half 

8 East Lynne. By Mrs. Henry 

Wood. Second half 

465 Earl’s Atonement, The. By 
Charlotte M. Braeme, author 

of “ Dora Thorne ” 

990 Earl’s Error, The, and Arnold’s 
Promise. By Charlotte M. 
Braeme, author of “ Dora 

Thorne ” 

82T Effie Ogilvie. By Mrs. Oliphant 
960 Elizabeth’s Fortune. By Ber- 
tlia Thomas 


685 England under Gladstone. 1880 
—1885. By Justin H. McCar- 
thy, M.P 20 

521 Entangled. By E. Fairfax 

Byrrne 20 

625 Erema; or. My Father’s Sin. 


118 Eric Dering. “ The Duchess ” 10 
96 Erling the Bold. By R. M. Bal- 

lantyne 30 

90 Ernest Maltravers. By Sir E. 

Bulwer Lytton 20 

1033 Esther : A Story for Girls. By 

Rosa Nouchette Carey 20 

786 Ethel Mildmay’s Follies. By 
author of “ Petite’s Romance ” 20 
162 Eugene Aram. By Sir E. Bul- 
wer Lytton 20 

764 Evil Genius, The. By Wilkie 

Collins 20 

470 Evelyn’s Folly. By Charlotte 
M. Braeme, author of ” Dora 

Thorne” 20 

62 Executor, The. By Mrs. Alex- 
ander 20 

13 Eyre’s Acquittal. By Helen B. 
Mathers 10 


319 Face to Face : A Fact in Seven 
Fables. By R. E. Francillon. 10 
877 Facing the Footlights. By Flor- 
ence Marryat 20 

538 Fair Country Maid, A. By E. 

Fairfax Byrrne 20 

905 Fair-Haired Alda, The. By 

Florence Marryat 20 

261 Fair Maid, A. By F. W. Robin- 
son 20 

417 Fair Maid of Perth, The; or, 

St. Valentine’s Day. By Sir 

Walter Scott 20 

626 Fair Mystery, A. By Charlotte 
M. Braeme, author of ” Dora 

Thorne ” 20 

727 Fair Women. Mrs. Forrester 20 
30 Faith and Unfaith. By “The 

Duchess” 20 

819 Fallen Idol, A. By F. Anstey.. ^ 
294 False Vow, The; or, Hilda. By 
Charlotte M. Braeme, author 

of “ DoraTliorne ” 10 

928 False Vow, The; or, Hilda. By 
Charlotte M. Braeme, author 
of “Dora Thorne.” (Large 

type edition) 20 

543 Family Affair, A. By Hugh 
Conway, author of “ Called 

Back ” 20 

338 Family Difficulty, The. By Sa- 
rah Doudney 10 

690 Far From the Madding Crowd. 

By Thomas Hardy 20 

798 Fashion of this World, The. By 

Helen B. Mathers 10 

680 Fast and Loose. By Arthur 

Griffiths : 20 

246 Fatal Dower, A. By the Author 
of “His Wedded Wife” 20 


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THE SEASIDE LIBRAKY— Pocket Edition. 


299 Fatal Lilies, The. By Charlotte 
M. Braeme, author of “ Dora 

Thorne ” 10 

648 Fatal Marriage, A, and The 
Shadow in the Corner. By 

Miss M. E. Braddon 10 

1043 Faust. By Goethe 20 

693 Felix Holt, the Radical. By 

George Eliot 20 

642 Fenton’s Quest. By Miss M. E. 

Braddon 20 

993 Fighting the Air. By Florence 

Marryat 20 

7 File No. 113. Emile Gaboriau 20 
575 Finger of Fate, The. By Cap- 
tain Mayne Reid 20 

95 Fire Brigade, The. By R. M. 

Ballantyne 10 

674 First Person Singular. By Da- 
vid Christie Murray 20 


199 Fisher Village, The. By Anne 

Beale 

679 Flower of Doom, The, and 10 
Other Stories. By M. Betham- 

Edwards 10 

745 For Another’s Sin; or, A 
Struggle for Love. By Char- 
lotte M Braeme, author of 

“ Dora Thorne ” 20 

156 “For a Dream’s Sake.” By 

Mrs. Herbert Martin 20 

173 Foreigners, The. By Eleanor C. 

Price 20 

997 Forging the Fetters, and The 
Australian Aunt. By Mrs. 

Alexander 20 

197 For Her Dear Sake. By Mary 

Cecil Hay 20 

150 For Himself Alone. By T. W. 
Speight 10 

278 For Life and Love. By Alison 10 
608 For Lilias. By Rosa Nouchette* 

Carey. First half 20 

608 For Lilias. By Rosa Nouchette 

Carey. Second half 20 

712 For Maimie’s Sake. By Grant 

Allen 20 

68G “ For Percival.” By Margaret 

Veley 20 

171 Fortune’s Wheel. By “The 

Duchess” 10 

468 Fortunes, Good and Bad, of a 
Sewing-Girl, The. By Char- 
lotte M. Stanley 10 

216 Fowil Play. By Charles Reade 20 
438 Found Out. By Helen B. 

Mathers 10 

833 Frank Fairlegh; or. Scenes 
From the Life of a Private 
Pupil. By Frank E Smedley 20 
805 Freres, The. By Mrs. Alex- 
ander. 1st half 20 

805 Freres, The. By Mrs. Alex- 
ander. 2d half 20 

226 Friendship. By “Ouida” 20 

288 From Gloom to Sunlight; or 
From Out the Gloom. By 
Charlotte M. Braeme 10 


955 From Gloom to Sunlight; or, 
From Out the Gloom. By 
Charlotte M. Braeme. (Large 

type edition) 20 

732 From Olympus to Hades. By 

Mrs. Forrester 2G 

288 From Out the Gloom; or. From 
Gloom to Sunlight. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 

“ Dora Thorne ” 10 

955 From Out the Gloom; or. From 
Gloom to Sunlight. By Cliar- 
lotte M. Braeme. (Large type 

edition) 20 

348 From Post to Finish. A Racing 
Romance. By Hawley Smart 20 
.044 Frozen Pirate, The. By W. 
Clark Russell 20 

285 Gambler’s Wife, The 20 

971 Garrison Gossip; Gathered in 
Blankhampton. Jt^hn Strange 

Winter 20 

772 Gascoyne, the Sandal-Wood 
Trader. By R. M. Ballantyne 20 
549 George Caulfield’s Journey. 

By Miss M. E. Braddon 10 

365 George Christy ; or, The Fort- 
unes of a Minstrel. By Tony 

Pastor 20 

331 Gerald. By Eleanor C. Price. ^ 

208 Ghost of Charlotte Cray, The, 
and Other Stories. By Flor- 


XT.JLCl/1 X y CLU • IV 

613 Ghost’s Touch, The. By Wilkie 

Collins 10 

225 Giant’s Robe, The. F. Anstey 20 
300 Gilded Sin, A, and A Bridge of 
Love. By Charlotte M. 
Braeme, author of “ Dora 

Thorne ” 10 

508 Girl at the Gate, The. By 

Wilkie Collins 10 

954 Girl s Heart, A. By the author 

of “ Nobody's Darling ” 20 

867 Girls of Fevershain, The. By 

Florence Marryat 20 

644 Girton Girl, A. By Mrs. Annie 

Edwards 20 

140 Glorious Fortune, A. By Wal- 
ter Besant 10 

647 Goblin Gold. By May CJrom- 

nielin 10 

450 Godfrey Helstone. By Georgi- 

ana M. Craik 20 

972 Gold Elsie. By E. Marlitt 20 

911 Golden Bells: A Peal in Seven 
Changes. By R. E. Francillon 20 
153 Golden Calf,'The. By Miss M. 

E. Braddon 20 

306 Golden Dawn, A. By Charlotte 
M. Braeme, author of “ Dora 

Thorne” 10 

656 Golden Flood, The. By R. E. 

Francillon and Wm. Senior.. 10 
1010 Golden Gates. By Charlotte 
M. Braeme, author of “ Dora 
Thorne 20 


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172 “ Go\den Girls.” By Alan Muir 20 
292 Golden Heart, A. By Charlotte 
M. Braeme, author of “ Dora 

Thorne”. 10 

916 Golden Hope, The. By W. 

Clark Russell 20 

667 Golden Lion of Granpere, The. 

By Anthony Trollope 20 

758 “ Good-bye, Sweetheart 1” By 

Rhoda Brougrhton 20 

366 Good Hater, A. By Frederick 

Boyle 20 

801 Good-Natured Man, The. By 

Oliver Goldsmith 10 

981 Granville de Vigne. “Ouida.” 

First half 20 

981 Granville de Vigne. “ Ouida.” 

Second half 20 

710 Greatest Heiress in England, 

The. By Mrs. Oliphant 20 

439 Great Expectations. By Chas. 

Dickens 20 

135 Great Heiress, A : A Fortune in 
Seven Checks. By R. E. Fran- 

cillon 10 

986 Great Hesper, The. By Frank 

Barrett 20 

244 Great Mistake, JA. By the au- 
thor of ” Cherry ” .^. 20 

170 Great Treason, A. By Mary 

Hoppus. First half 20 

170 Great Treason, A. By Mary 

Hoppus. Set^ond half 20 

751 Great Voyages and Great Navi- . 

gators. Jules Verne. 1st half 20 
751 Great Voyages and Great Navi- 
gators. Jules Verne. 2d half 20 
138 Green Pastures and Piccadilly. 

By Wm. Black 20 

231 Griffith Gaunt; or. Jealousy. 

By Charles Reade 20 

677 Griselda. By the author of “A 

Woman’s Love-Story” 20 

469 Guiding Star, A ; or. Lady Darn- 
er’s Secret. By Charlotte M. 
Braeme, author of “ Dora 

Thorne” 20 

896 Guilty River, The. By Wilkie 
Collins 20 


597 Haco the Dreamer. By William 

Sime ; 10 

668 Half-Way. An Anglo-French 

Romance 20 

663 Handy Andy. By Samuel Lover 20 
81 Hard Times. Charles Dickens 10 
622 Harry Heathcote of Gangoil. 

By Anthony Trollope 10 

191 Harry Lorrequer. By Charles 

Lever 20 

569 Harry Muir. By Mrs. Oliphant 20 
873 Harvest of Wild Oats, A. By 

Florence Marryat , 20 

785 Haunted Chamber, The. By 

“The Duchess” 10 

977 Haunted Hotel, The. By Wil- 
kie Collins 20 


958 Haunted Life, A; or. Her Terri- 
ble Sin. By Charlotte M. 
Braeme, author of “ Dora 

Thorne” 20 

169 Haunted Man, The. By Charles 

Dickens 10 

533 Hazel Kirke. By Marie Walsh. 20 
966 He, by the author of “King 
Solomon’s Wives and A 
Siege Baby and Childhood’s 
Memories, ny J. S. Winter... 20 
385 Headsman, The; or. The Ab- 
baye des Vignerons. By J. 

Fenimore Cooper 20 

811 Head Station, The. By Mrs. 

Campbell -Praed 20 

572 Healey. By Jessie Fothergill 20 
167 Heart and Science. By WTlkie 

Collins 20 

444 Heartof Jane Warner, The. By 

Florence Marryat 20 

391 Heart of Mid-Lothian, The. By 

Sir Walter Scott 20 

695 Hearts: Queen, Knave, and 
Deuce. By David Christie 

Murray 20 

741 Heiress of Hilldrop, The; or. 
The Romance of a Young 
Girl. By Charlotte M. Braeme, 
author of “ Dora Thorne ”... .20 

823 Heir of the Ages, The. By 

James Payn 20 

689 Heir Presumptive, The. By 

Florence Marryat 20 

1021 Heir to Ashley, The, and The 
Red-Court Farm. By Mrs. 

Henry Wood 20 

513 Helen Whitney’s Wedding, apd 
Other Tales. By Mrs. Henry 

Wood... 10 

535 Henrietta’s Wish; or. Domi- 
neering. By Charlotte M. 

Yonge 10 

806 Her Dearest Foe. By Mrs. Alex- 
ander. First half... 20 

808 Her Dearest Foe. By Mrs. Alex- 
ander. Second half 20 

160 Her Gentle Deeds. By Sarah 

Tytler 10 

814 Heritageof Langdale, The. By 

jMrs. Alexander 

956 Her Johnnie. By Violet Wh.yte 20 
860 Her Lord and Master. By Flor- 
ence Marryat 20 

297 Her Marriage Vow; or, Hil- 
ary’s Folly. By Charlotte M. 
Braeme, author of “ Dora 

Thorne” 10 

953 Her Mairiage Vow; or, Hil- 
ary’s Folly. By Charlotte M. 
Braeme, author of “ Dora 
Thorne.” (Large type edition) 26 
576 Her Martyrdom. By Cliarlotte 
M. Braeme, author of ” Dora 

Thorne ” 20 

19 Her Mother’s Sin. By Cliarlotte* 
M. Braeme, author'of “Dora 
Thorne” 10 

824 Her Own Doing. W. E. Norris 18 


THE SEASIDE LIBRARY— Pocket Edition, 


984 Her Own Sister. By E. S. Will- 
iamson 20 

978 Her Second Love. By Charlotte 
M. Braeme, author of “ Dora 

Thorne” 20 

968 Her Terrible Sin; or, A Haunt- 
ed Life. Charlotte M. Braeme, 
author of ” Dora Thorne ”... 20 
196 Hidden Perils. Mary Cecil Hay 20 

618 Hidden Sin, The. A Novel 20 

933 Hidden Terror, A. By Mary 

Albert 20 

297 Hilary’s Folly; or, Her Mar- 
riage Vow. By Charlotte M. 
Braeme, author of “Dora 

Thorne” 10 

958 Hilary’s Folly; or. Her Mar- 
riage Vow. By Charlotte M. 
Braeme. (Large type edition) 20 


294 Hilda; or. The False Vow. By 
Charlotte M. Braeme, author 

of ” Dora Thorne ” 10 

928 Hilda; or. The False Vow. By 
Charlotte M. Braeme. (Large 

type edition) 20 

658 Histoiy of a Week, The. By 

Mrs. L. B. Walford 10 

165 History of Henry Esmond, The. 

By William M. Thackeray. . . 20 
461 His Wedded Wife. By author 

of ” A Fatal Dower ” 20 

1006 His Wife’s Judgment. By 
Charlotte M. Braeme, author 

of *• Dora Thorne ” 20 

904 Holy Rose, The. By Walter Be- 
sant 10 


378 Homeward Bound ; or, The 

Chase. By J. F. Cooper 20 

1041 Home Again. By George Mac- 
donald 20 

379 Home as Found. (Sequel to 

” Homeward Bound.”) By J. 
Fenimore Cooper 20 


800 Hopes and Fears ; or. Scenes 
from the Life of a Spinster. 
Charlotte M. Yonge. 1st half 20 
800 Hopes and Fears ; or. Scenes 
from the Life of a Spinster. 
Charlotte M. Yonge. 2d half 20 
552 Hostages to Fortune. By Miss 


M. E. Braddon 20 

600 Houp-La. By John Strange 

Winter. (Illustrated). ... 10 

703 House Divided Against Itself, 

A. By Mrs. Oliphant 20 

248 House on the Marsh, The. By 

F. Warden 10 

351 House on the Moor, The. By 


874 House Party, A. By “ Ouida ” 10 
481 House That Jack Built, The. 

By Alison • 10 

754 How to be Happy Though Mar- 
ried. By a (Graduate in the 

University of Matrimony 20 

748 Hurrish; A Study. By the 

Hon. Emily Lawless: 20 

198 Husband’s Story, A 10 


389 Ichabod. A Portrait. By Bertha 

Thomas 10 

996 Idalia. By ” Ouida.” 1st half 20 
996 Idalia. By “ Ouida.” 2d half 20 

188 Idonea. By Anne Beale 20 

807 If Love Be Love. By D. Cecil 

Gibbs 20 

715 I Have Lived and Loved. By 

Mrs. Forrester 20 

762 Impressions of Theophrastus 
Such. By George Eliot 10 

303 Ingledew House. By Charlotte 

M. Braeme, author of ” Dora 

Thorne” 10 

796 In a Grass Country. By Mrs. 

H. Lovett Cameron 20 

[009 In an Evil Hour, and Other 
Stories. By ‘‘The Duchess” 20 

304 In Cupid’s Net. By Charlotte 

M. Braeme, author of ‘‘ Dora 

Thorne ” 10 

404 In Durance Vile, and Other 
Stories. By “ The Duchess ” 10 
324 In Luck at Last. By Walter 

Besant 10 

672 InMaremma. By “Ouida.” 1st 


672 In Maremma, By “ Ouida.” 2d 

h^f 20 

604 Innocent; A Tale of Modern 
Life. By Mrs. Oliphant. First 

Half 20 

604 Innocent; A Tale of Modern 
Life. By Mrs. Oliphant. Sec- 
ond Half 20 

577 In Peril and Privation. By 

James Payn 10 

638 In Quarters with the 25th (The 
Black Horse) Dragoons. By 

J. S. Winter 10 

759 In Shallow Waters. By Annie 

Armitt 20 

39 In Silk Attire. By Wm. Black 20 
738 In the Golden Days. By Edna 

Lyall 20 

682 In the Middle Watch. By W. 

Clark Russell 20 

452 In the West Countrie. By May 

Crommelin 20 

383 Introduced to Society. By 

Hamilton Aid6 10 

122 lone Stewart. By Mrs. E. Lynn 

Linton 20 

031 Irene’s Vow. By Charlotte M. 
Braeme, author of “ Dora 

Thorne ” 20 

233 “I Say No ;” or. The Love-Let- 
ter Answered. By Wilkie Col- 
lins SO 

235 “It is Never Too Late to 
Mend.” By Charles Reade. . . 20 
28 Ivanhoe. By Sir Walter Scott 20 


584 Jack. By Alphonse Daudet. . . 20 
752 Jackanapes, and Other Stories. 

By Juliana Horatio Ewing.. . 10 
416 Jack Tier; or. The Florida 
Reef. By J. Fenimore Cooper 21 


9 


THE SEASIDE LIBRARY— Pocket Edition. 


743 Jack’s Courtship. By W. Clark 

Russell. 1st half 20 

743 Jack’s Courtship. By W. Clark 

Russell. 2d half 20 

519 James Gordon's Wife. A Novel 20 
15 Jane Eyre. Charlotte Bront6 20 
728 Janet’s Repentance. By 

George Eliot 10 

143 Jenifer. BvAnnie Thomas... 20 
941 Jess. By H. Rider Haggard. . 20 
1046 Jessie. By the author of “Ad- 

die's Husband’’ 20 

841 Jet: Her Face or Her Fortune? 

By Mrs. Annie Edwards 10 

767 Joan. By Rhoda Broughton. 20 
914 Joan Wentworth. By Katha- 
rine S. Macquoid 20 

357 John. By Mrs. Oliphant 20 

203 J ohn Bull and His Island. By 

MaxO’Rell 10 

289 John Bull’s Neighbor in Her 
True Light. By a “Brutal 

Saxon ’’ 10 

11 John Halifax, Gentleman. By 

Miss Mulock. First half 20 

11 J>hn Halifax, Gentleman. By 
Miss Mulock. Second half. . . 20 
209 John Holdsworth, Chief Mate. 

By W. Clark Russell 10, 

694 John Maidment. By Julian 

Sturgis 20 

570 John Marchmont’s Legacy. By 

Miss M. E. Braddon 20 

488 Joshua Haggard’s Daughter. 

By Miss M. E. Braddon 20 

619 Joy; or, The Light of Cold- 
Home Ford. By May Crom- 

melin 20 

265 Judith Shakespeare: Her Love 
Affairs and Other Advent- 
ures. By William Black.... 20 
332 Judith Wynne. By author of 

“Lady Love*l ace ’’ 20 

80 June. By Mrs. Forrester 20 

561 Just As I Am ; or, A Living Lie. 

By Miss M. E. Braddon 20 


1055 Katharine Regina. By Walter 

Besant 20 

832 Kidnapped. By Robert Louis 

Stevenson 20 

857 Kildee ; or. The Sphinx of the 
Red House. By Mary E. 

Bryan. First half 20 

857 Kildee; or. The Sphinx of the 
Red House. By Mary E. 

Bryan. Second^half 20 

126 Kilmeny. By William Black. 20 
808 King Arthur. Not a Love 

Story. By Miss Mulock 20 

753 King Solomon's Mines. By H. 

Rider Haggard 120 

970 King Solomon’s Wives; or. The 
Phantom Mines. By Hyder 

Ragged. (Illustrated) 20 

435 Klytia: A Story of Heidelberg 
Castle. By George Taylor. . . 20 


1001 Lady Adelaide’s Oath; or. The 
Castle’s Heir. By Mrs. Henry 

Wood 20 

35 Lady Audley’s Secret. By Miss 

M. E. Braddon 20 

733 Lady Branksmere. By “The 

Duchess’’ 20 

516 Lady Castlemaine’s Divorce; 
or. Put Asunder. By Chat lotte 
M. Braeme, author of “ Dora 

Thorne’’ 20 

219 Lady Clare ; or. The Master of 
the Forges. From the French 

of Georges Ohnet 10 

469 Lady Darner’s Secret: or, A 
Guiding Star. By Charlotte 
M. Braeme, author of “ Dora 

Thorne’’ 20 

931 Lady Diana’s Pride. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 
“ Dora Thorn« ’’ 20 

268 Lady Gay’s Pride; or. The Mi- 

ser’s Treasure. By Mrs. Alex. 

McVeigh Miller 20 

1042 Lady Grace. By Mrs. Henry 

Wood 20 

305 Lady Gwendoline’s Dream. By 
. Charlotte M. Braeme, author 

of “Dora Thorne” 10 

506 Lady Lovelace. By the author 

of “Judith Wynne” 20 

155 Lady Muriel’s Secret. By Jean 

Middlemas 20 

161 Lady of Lyons, The. Founded 
on the Play of, that title by 

Lord Lytton 10 

497 Lady’s Mile, The. By Miss M. 

E. Braddon 20 

875 Lady Val worth’s Diamonds. 

By The Duchess ” 20 

652 Lady With the Rubies, The. By 
E. Marlitt 20 

269 Lancaster’s Choice. By Mrs. 

Alex. McVeigh Miller 20 

599 Lancelot Ward, M.P. George 

Temple 10 

32 Land Leaguers, The. By An- 
thony Trollope 20 

684 Last Days at Apswich 10 

40 Last Days of Pompeii, The. By 

Bulwer L 3 ^tton 20 

130 Last of the Barons, The, By Sir 
E. Bulwer Lytton. 1st half. . 20 
130 Last of the Barons, The. By Sir 
E. Bulwer Lytton. 2d half.. 20 
60 Last of the Mohicans, The. By 

J. Fenimore Cooper 20 

921 Late Miss Hollingford, The. 

By Rosa Mulholland 10 

267 Laurel Vane;^r, The Girls’ 
Conspiracv. ^y Mrs. Alex. 

McVeigh Miller 20 

455 Lazarus in London. By F. W. 

Robinson 20 

839 Leah : A Woman of Fashion. 

By Mrs. Annie Edwards 20 

386 Led Astray ; or, “ La Petite 
Comtesse.” Octave Feuillet. 10 


10 


THE SEASIDE LIBRARY — Pocket Edition, 


353 Legrend of Montrose, A. By Sir 

Walter Scott 

164 Leila; or, The Sie^e' of Gren- 
ada. • By Bui wer Lytton 

885 LesMis6rables. Victor Hugo. 

Part 1 

885 Les Mis^rables. Victor Hugo. 

Part II 

885 Les Miserables. Victor Hugo. 

Part III 

408 Lester’s Secret. By Mary Cecil 

Hay 

988 Letty Leigh. By Charlotte M. 
Braeme, author of “ Dora 

Thorne ” 

563 Lewis Arundel ; or, The Rail- 
road of Life. By Frank E. 
Smedley 

437 Life and Adventures of Martin 
Chuzzlewit. By Charles Dick- 
ens. First half 

437 Life and Adventures of Martin 
Chuzzlewit, By Charles Dick- 
ens. Second half 

774 Life and Travels of Mungo 

Park, The 

698 Life’s Atonement, A. By David 

Christie Murray 

1027 Life’s Secret, A. By Mrs. Henry 
Wood 

1036 Like and Unlike. By Miss M. 

E. Braddon 

617 Like Dian’s Kiss. By “ Rita ” 
807 Like no Other Love. By Char- 
lotte M. Bi-aeme, author of 

“ Dora Thorne ” 

402 Lilliesleaf : or, Passages in the 
Life of Mrs. Margaret Mait- 
land of Sunnyside. By Mrs. 

Oliphant 

\97 Lionel Lincoln; or, The 
Leaguer of Boston. By J. 

Fenirnore Cooper 

24 Little Dorrit. By Charles Dick- 
ens. First half 

94 Little Don it. By Charles Dick- 
ens. Second half 

^9 Little Goldie : A Story of Wom- 
an’s Love. By Mrs. Sumner 

Hayden 

109 Little Loo. W. Clark Russell 
Ti^ Little Make-Believe. By B. L. 

Farjeon 

45 Little Pilgrim, A. By Mrs. Oli- 
phant 

872 Little Savage, The. By Captain 

Marryat 

Jll Little School-master Mark, 
The. By J. H. Shorthouse . . 
899 Little Steps^, A. By Florence 

Marryat 

878 Little Tu’penny. By S. Baring- 

Gould 

804 Living or Dead. By Hugh Con- 
way, author of “Called Back ” 
&19 tiocksley Hall Sixty Years Af- 
ver, etc. By Alfred, Lord 
Vennyson, P.L., D.C.L 


797 Look Before You Leap. By 

Mrs. Alexander 20 

92 Lord Lynne’s Choice. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 

“Dora Thorne’’ 10 

749 Lord Vanecourt’s Daughter. 

By Mabel Collins 20 

67 Lorna Doone. By R. D. Black- 

more, First half 20 

67 Lorna Doone. By R. D. Black- 

more. Second half 20 

473 Lost Son, A. By Mary Linskill 10 
354 Lottery of Life, The. By John 

Brougham 20 

453 Lottery Ticket, The. By F. Du 

Boisgobey 20 

479 Louisa. By Katharine S. Mac- 

quoid 20 

742 Love and Life. By Charlotte 

M. Yonge 20 

273 Love and Mirage; or, The 
Waiting on an Island. By M. 

Belham-Ed wards 10 

232 Love and Money ; or, A Peril- 
ous Secret. By Chas. Reade. 10 
146 Love Finds the Way, and Oth- 
er Stories. By Walter Besant 

and James Rice 10 

306 Love for a Day. By Charlotte 
M. Braeme, author of “Dora 

Thorne’’ 10 

313 Lover’s Creed, The. Bj’’ Mrs. 

Cashel-Hoey 20 

893 Love s Conflict. By Florence 

Marryat. First half 20 

893 Love’s Conflict. By Florence 

Marryat, Second half 20 

573 Love’s Harvest. B. L. Farjeon 20 
949 Love’s Hidden Depths; or, 
Claribei’s Love St<»ry. By 
Charlotte M. Braeme, author 

of “ Dora Thorne ’’ 20 

175 Love’s Random Shot. By Wil- 
kie Collins ' 10 

757 Love’s M<artyr. By Laurence 

Alma Tadeina 10 

291 Love’s Warfai-e. By Charlotte 
M. Braeme, author of “ Dora 

Thorne ’’ 10 

73 Love’s Victory; or. Redeemed 
by Love. By Chailotte M. 
Braeme, author of “ Dora 

Thorne’’ 20 

118 Loys, Lord Berresford, and 
Eric Dering. “ The Duchess ’’ 10 
582 Lucia, Hugh and Another. By 

Mrs. J. H. Needell 20 

589 Luck of the Darrells, The. By 

James Pafn 20 

901 Lucky Disappointment, A. By 

Florence Marryat 10 

370 Lucy Crof ton. Mrs. Oliphant 10 

44 Macleod of Dare. By William 

Black 20 

526 Madame De Presnel. By E. 

Fi ances Poynter 20 

345 Madam. By Mrs. Oliphant. . 20 


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THE SEASIDE LIBRARY— Pocket Edition. 


11 


78 Madcap Violet. By Wm. Black 20 
1004 Mad Dumaresq. By Florence 

Marryat 20 

510 Mad Love, A. By the author of 

“ Lover and Lord ’’ 10 

1014 Mad Love, A. By Charlotte M. 
Braeme, author of “ Dora 

Thorne” 20 

69 Madolin’s Lover. By Charlotte 
M. Braeme, author of ‘‘Dora 

Thorne” 20 

341 Madolin Rivers ; or. The Little 
Beauty of Red Oak Seminary. 

By Laura Jean Libbey 20 

377 Magdalen Hepburn : A Story of 
the Scottish Reformation. By. 

Mrs. Oliphaiit 20 

494 Maiden All Forlorn, A, and 
Barbara. By ‘‘ The Duchess ” 10 
64 Maiden Fair, A. By Charles 

Gibbon 10 

121 Maid of Athens. By Justin 

McCarthy 20 

633 Maid of Sker, The. By R. D. 

Biackmore. 1st half 20 

633 Maid of Sker, The. By R. D. 

Blackmore. 2d half 20 

229 Maid, Wife, or Widow? By 

Mrs. Alexander 10 

1019 Major and Minor. By W. E. 

Norris. First half 20 

1019 Major and Minor. By W. E. 

Norris. Second half 20 

803 Major Frat)k. By A. L. G. Bos- 

boom-Toussaint 20 

702 Man and Wife. By Wilkie Col- 
lins. First half 20 

702 Man and Wife. By Wilkie Col- 
lins. Second half 20 

277 Man of His Word, A. By W. 

E. Norris 10 

688 Man of Honor, A. By John 

Strange Winter. Illustrated. 10 
217 Man Sue Cared For, The. By 

F. W. Rolunson 20 

371 Margaret ]\Iaitland. By Mrs. 

Oliphant 20 

755 Margery Daw. A Novel 20 

922 Marjorie. By Charlotte M. 
Braeme, author of ‘‘Dora 

Thorne ” 20 

451 Market Harborough, and In- 
side the Bar. By G. J. Whyte- 

Melville 20 

773 Mark of Cain, The. By Andrew 

Lang 10 

1002 Marriage at a Venture. By 

Emile Gaboriau 20 

334 Marriage of Convenience, A. 

By Harriett Jay 10 

480 Married in Haste. Edited by 

Miss M. E. Braddon 20 

476 Married in Haste; or, Between 
Two Sins. By Charlotte M. 
Braeme, author of ‘‘ Dora 

Thorne” 20 

992 Marrying and Giving in Mar- 
riage. By JMrs. Molesworth.. 20 
1047 Marvel. By ‘‘The Duchess”.. 20 


Mary Anerley. By R. D. Black- 

more 20 

Master Humphrey’s Clock. By 

Charles Dickens 10 

Master of the Mine, The. By 

Robert Buchanan 20 

Master Passion, The. By Flor- 
ence Marryat 20 


Mathias Sandorf. By Jules 
Verne. (Illustrated.) Part I. 10 
Mathias Sandorf. By Jules 
Verne. (Illustrated.) Part II 10 
Mathias Sandorf. By Jules 
Verne. (Illustrated.) PartlH 10 
Matt: A Tale of a Caravan. 

By Robert Buchanan 10 

Mauleverer’s Millions. By T. 

Wemyss Reid 20 

May Blossom; or, Between 
Two Loves. By Margaret Lee 20 
Mayor of Casterbridge, The. 

By Thomas Hardy 20 

Memoirs and Resolutions of 
Adam Graeme of Mossgray, 
including some Chronicles of 
the Borough of Fendie. By 


Mrs. Oliphant 20 

Mental Struggle, A. By “ The 

Duchess” 20 

Mercedes of Castile; or, The 
Voyage to Cathay. By J. Fen- 

imore Cooper 20 

Merchant’s Clerk, The. By 

Samuel Warren 10 

Merry Men, The, and Other 
Tales and Fables. By Robert 

Louis Stevenson 20 

Michael Strogotf; or. The Cou- 
rier of the Czar. Jules Verne 20 
Middlemarch. By George Eliot. 

First half 20 

Middlemarch. By George Eliot. 

Second half 20 

Midnight Sun, The. By Fred- 
rika Bremer 10 


Midshipman, The, Marmaduke 
IMerry. Wm. H. G. Kingston. 20 
Mignon. By Mrs. Forrester.. 20 
Mignon ; or. Booties’ Baby. By 

J. S. Winter. Illustrated 10 

Mignon's Husband. By John 

Strange Winter. 20 

Mignon’s Secret. By John 

Strange Winter 10 

Mikado, The. and Other Comic 
Operas. Written by W. S. 
Gilbert. Composed by Arthur 

Sullivan 20 

Mildred Trevanion. By “ The 

Duchess ” 10 

Miles Wallingford. (Sequel to 
“ Afloat and Ashore.”) By J. 

Fenimore Cooper 20 

Mill on the Floss, The. By 

George Eliot 20 

Miller’s Daughter, The; or, The 
Belle of Lynn. By Charlotte 
M. Braeme, author of “ Dora 
Thorne ” 20 


615 

132 

646 

825> 

578 

578 

578 

398 

723 

330 

791 

337 

771 

424 

406 

940 

1020 

31 

31 

187 

763 

729 

492 

1032 

876 

692 

390 

414 

3 

929 


12 


THE SEASIDE LIBRAKY— Pocket Edition. 


157 Milly’s Hero. F. W. Robinson 

182 Millionaire, The 

205 Minister’s Wife, The. By Mrs. 

Oliphant 

1051 Misadventures of John Nichol- 
son, The. By Robert Louis 

Stevenson 

399 Miss Brown. By Vernon Lee. 
369 Miss Bretherton. By Mrs. Hum- 
phry Ward 

1007 Miss Gascoigne. By Mrs. J. 

H. Riddell ....... 

866 Miss Harrington’s Husband; 
or. Spiders of Society. By 

Florence Marryat 

245 Miss Tommy. By Miss Mulock 
315 Mistletoe Bough, The. Edited 

by Miss M. E. Braddon 

618 Mistletoe Bough, The. Clirist- 
mas,- 1885. Edited by Miss M. 

E. Braddon 

890 Mistletoe Bough, The. Christ- 
mas, 1886. Edited by Miss M. 

E. Braddon 

1038 Mistress and Maid. By Miss 

Mulock 

1030 Mistress of Ibichstein. By Fr. 

Henkel 

298 Mi tchel hurst Place. By Marga- 
ret Veley 

584 Mixed Motives 

1016 Modern Circe, A. By “The 
Duchess ”. .................... 

887 Modern Telemachus, A. By 

Charlotte M. Yonge 

881 Mohawks. By Miss M. E. Brad- 
don. First half 

881 Mohawks. By Miss M. E. Brad- 
don. Second half 

2 Molly Bawn. “ The Duchess ” 
159 Moment of Madness, A. By 

Florence Marryat 

125 Monarch of Mincing Lane, The. 

Bj’^ William Black 

1054 Mona’s Choice. By Mrs. Alex- 

901 Monaster}^ Tlie. By Sir Waiter 

Scott 

119 Monica, and A Rose Distill’d. 

By “The Duchess” 

431 Monikins, The. ByJ. Fenimore 

Cooper 

26 Monsieur Lecoq. By Emile 

Gaboriau. Vol. I 

26 Monsieur Lecoq. By Emile 

Gaboriau. Vol. H 

166 Moonshine and Marguerites. 

By “The Duchess” 

102 Moonstone, The. By Wilkie 

Collins 

803 More Bitter than Death. By 
Charlotte M. Braeme, author 

of “ Dora Thorne ”.. 

178 More Leaves from the Journal 
of a Life in the Highlands. 

By Queen Victoria 

116 Moths. By “Ouida” 

495 Mount Royal. By Miss M. E. 
Braddon 


501 Mr. Butler’s Ward. By F. Ma- 


bel Robinson 20 

113 Mrs. Carr’s Companion. By M. 

G. Wightwick 10 

675 Mrs. Dymond. ‘By Miss Thacke- 


^ 

25 Mrs.Geoifrey. “ The Duchess.” 

(Large type edition) 20 

950 Mfs. Geoffrey. “The Duchess” 10 
606 Mrs. Hollyer. By Georgiana M. 
Craik... 20 

546 Mrs. Keith’s Crime 10 

440 Blrs. Lirriper’s Lodgings. By 

Charles Dickens 10 

645 Mrs. Smith of Longmains. By 

Rhoda Broughton 10 

339 Mrs. Vereker’s Courier Maid. 

By Mrs. Alexander 10 

991 Mr. Midshipman Easy. By 

Captain Marryat 20 

256 Mr. Smith: A Part of His Life. 

By B. L. Walford 20 

635 Murder or Manslaughter? By 

Helen B. Mathers 10 

596 My Ducats and My Daughter. 

By the author of “ The Crime 

of Christmas Day” 20 

848 My Friend Jim. W. E. Norris 20 
405 My Friends and I. Edited by 
Julian Sturgis 10 

726 My Hero. By Mrs. Forrester. 20 
799 My Lady Green Sleeves. By 

Helen B. Mathers 20 

623 My Lady’s Money. By Wilkie 

C3ollins' 10 

724 My Lord and My Lady. By 

BIrs. Forrester 20 

863 “jVIyOwn Child.” By Florence 

Marryat 20 

504 My Poor Wife. By the author' 

of “ Addie's Husband ” 10 

433 My Sister Kate. By Charlotte 
M. Braeme, author of “Dora 

Thorne” 10 

861 My Sister the Actress. By Flor- 
ence Marry at 20 

271 Blysteries of Paris, The. By Eu- 
gene Sue. Part 1 30 

271 Blysteries of Paris, The. By Eu- 
gene Sue. Part II 30 

366 Mysterious Hunter, The; or. 
The Blan of Death. By Capt. 

L. C. Carleton 20 

255 Mystery, The. By Blrs. Henry 

Wood 20 

662 Mystery of Allan Grale, The. 

By Isabella F3wie Blayo 20 

969 Mystery of Colde Fell, The; or, 
Not Proven. By Charlotte BI. 
Braeme, author of “Dora 

Thorne” 20 

454 Blystery of Edwin Drood, The. 

By Chas. Dickens . ... 20 

514 Mystery of Jessy Page, The, 
and Other Tales. By Mrs. 

Henry Wood 10 

43 Blysterj" of Orcival, The. By 
Simile Gaboriau 20 


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THE SEASIDE LIBRARY— Pocket Edition. 


18 


985 Mystery of the Holly-Tree, 
The. By Charlotte M. Braeme, 
author of “ Dora Thorne ”... 20 
725 My Ten Years’ Imprisonment. 

By Silvio Pellico 10 

612 My Wife’s Niece. By author 
of “Doctor Edith Romney ”. 20 
666 My Youn^ Alcides. By Char- 
lotte M. Yonge 20 


574 Nabob, The: A Story of Paris- 
ian Life and Manners. By Al- 
phonse Daudet 20 

1012 Namel^s Sin, A. By Charlotte 
M. Braeme, author of “ Dora 

Thorne” 20 

227 Nancy. By Rhoda Broughton 20 
509 NellHaffenden. By TigheHop-.^ 

kins: 20 

936 Nellie’s Memories. By Rosa 
Nouchette Carey. 1st half... 20 
936 Nellie’s Memories. By Rosa 
Nouchette Carey. 2d half... 20 
181 New Abelard, The. By Robert 

Buchanan 10 

856 New Arabian Nights. By Rob- 
ert Louis Stevenson 20 

464 Newcomes, The. By William 
Makepeace Thackeray. Part 

1 20 

464 Newcomes, The. By William 
Makepeace Thackeray. Part 

II 20 

52 New Magdalen, The. By Wilkie 

Collins 10 

1023 Next of Kin— Wanted. By M. 

Betham-Ed wards 20 

37 Nicholas Nickleby. By Charles 

Dickens. First half 20 

37 Nicholas Nickleby. By Charles 

Dickens. Second half 20 

909 Nine of Hearts, The. By B. L. 

Farjeon 20 

1005 99 Dark Street. By F. W. Rob- 
inson 20 

105 Noble Wife, A. John Saunders 20 
864 “ No Intentions.” By Florence 

Marryat 20 

565 No Medium. Bv Annie Thomas 10 
290 Nora’s Love Test. By Mary 

Cecil Hay 20 

595 North Country Maid, A. By 

Mrs. H. Lovett Cameron 20 

1011 North Versus South; or, Tex- 
ar’s Vengeance. By Jules 

Verne. Parti 20 

812 No Saint. By Adeline Sergeant 20 
168 No Thoroughfare. By Dickens 

and Collins 10 

215 Not Like Other Girls. By Rosa 

Nouchette Carey. . 20 

969 Not Proven; or. The Mystery 
of Colde Fell. By Chahotte 
M. Braeme, author of “Doisa 

Thorne ” 20 

765 Not Wisely, But Too Well. By 

Rhoda Broughton 20 

614 No. 99. By Arthur Griffiths.. 10 


766 No. XIII. ; or, 'I’he Story of the 
Lost Vestal. Emma Marshall 10 
640 Nuttie’s Father. By Charlotte 
M. Yonge 20 

425 Oak-Openings, The; or. The 
Bee-Hunter. By J. Fenimore 

Cooper 20 

211 Octoroon, The. By Miss M. E. 

Braddon 10 

183 Old Contrairy, and Other Sto- 
ries. By Florence Marryat.. 10 
10 Old Curiosity Shop, The. By 

Charles Dickens 20 

410 Old Lady Mary. By Mrs. Oli- 
phant 10 

858 Old Ma’m’selle’s Secret. By E. 

Marlitt 20 

72 Old Myddelton’s Money. By 

Mary Cecil Hay 20 

645 Oliver’s Bride. By Mrs. Oli- 

phant 10 

41 Oliver Twist. By Charles 

Dickens 20 

605 Ombra. By Mrs. Oliphant.... 20 
280 Omnia Vanitas. A Tale of So- 
ciety. By Mrs. Forrester. .. . 10 
883 Once Again. By Mrs. Forrester 20 
143 One False, Both Fair. By John 

B. Harwood • 20 

342 One New Year’s Eve. By “The 

Duchess” 10 

840 One Thing Needful; or. The 
Penalty of Fate. By Miss M. 

E. Braddon 20 

985 On Her Wedding Morn, and 
The Mystery of the Holly- 
Tree. Charlotte M. Braeme, 
author of “ Dora Thorne ”... 20 
384 On Horseback Through Asia 
Minor. By Captain Fred Bur- 
naby 20 

498 Only a Clod, By Miss M. E. 

Braddon 20 

496 Only a Woman. Edited by Miss 

M. E. Braddon 20 

655 Open Door, The. By Mrs. Oli- 
phant 10 

998 Open, Sesame 1 By Florence 

Marryat 20 

708 Ormond. By Maria Edgeworth 20 
12 Other People’s Money. By 

Emile Gaboriau 20 

639 Othmar. By“Ouida.” 1st half 20 
639 Othmar. By “ Ouida.” 2d half 20 

859 Ottilie ; An Eighteenth Century 

Idyl, and The Prince of the 100 


Soups. By Vernon Lee 20 

838 Ought We to Visit Her? By 

Mrs. Annie Edwards 20 

-131 Our Mutual Friend. By Charles 

Dickens. First half 20 

131 Our Mutual Friend. By Charles 

Dickens. Second half 20 

747 Our Sensation Novel. Edited 
by Justin H. McCarthy, M.P. 10 
925 Outsider, The. Hawley Smart 20 
870 Out of His Reckoning. By 
- Florence Marryat. . . 10 


14 . 


THE SEASIDE LIBRARY — Pocket Edition. 


530 Pair of Blue Eyes, A. By 

Thomas Hardy 20 

587 Parson o’ Dumford, The. By 

G. Manville Fenn 20 

238 Pascarel. By ‘‘Ouida” 20 


822 Passion Flower, A. A Novel.. 20 
517 Passive Crime, A, and Other 
Stories. By “ The Duchess ” 10 
886 Pastou Carew, Millionaire and 
Miser. Mrs. E. Lynn Linton = 20 
309 Pathfinder, The. By J. Feni- 


more Cooper 20 

720 Paul Clifford. By SirE. Bulwer 

Lytton, Bart . .' 20 

571 Paul Carew’s Story. By Alice 

Comvns Carr 10 

525 Paul Vargas, and Other Stor- 
ies. By Hugh Conway, au- 
thor of “ Called Back ” 10 

994 Penniless Orphan, A. By W. 

Heiinburg 20 

449 Peeress and Player. By Flor- 
ence Marry at 20 

613 Percy and the Prophet. By 

Wilkie Collins 10 

776 P^re Goriot. By H. De Balzac 20 
314 Peril. By Jessie Fothergill. . . 20 

965 Periwinkle. By Arnold Gray. 20 
568 Perpetual Curate, The. By Mrs. 

Oliphant 20 

133 Peter the Whaler. By William 

H. G. Kingston 10 

868 Petronel. By Florence Marry at 20 
392 Peveril of the Peak. By Sir 

Walter Scott 20 

326 Phantastes. A Faerie Romance 
for Men and Women. By 

George Macdonald 10 

56 Phantom Fortune. By Miss M. 

E. Braddon 20 

845 Philip Earnscliffe ; or. The Mor- 
als of May Fair. By Mrs. 

Annie Edwards 20 

836 Philistia. By Cecil Power 20 

669 Philosophy of Whist, The. By 

William Pole 20 

903 Phyllida. By Florence Marry at 20 
16 Phyllis. By “The Duchess”. 20 
372 Phyllis’ Probation. By the au- 
thor of “ His Wedded Wife ”. 10 


818 Pluck. By John Strange Winter 10 
869 Poison of Asps, The. By Flor- 
ence Marry at 10 

836 Point of Honor, A. By Mrs. An- 
nie Edwards 20 

329 Polish Jew, The. (Translated 
from the French by Caroline 
A. Merighi.) By Erckmann- 

Chatrian 10 

831 Pomegranate Seed. By the au- 
thor of “ The Two Miss Flem- 
ings,” etc 20 

902 Poor Gentleman, A. By Mrs. 

Oliphant 20 

325 Portent, The. By George Mac- 
donald 10 

6 Portia. By “The Duchess ”.. 20 

655 Portrait, The. By Mrs. Oliphant 10 
558 Poverty Corner. By G.. Man- 
ville Fenn 20 

310 Prairie, The. By J. Fenimore 

Cooper. 20 

422 Precaution. By J. Fenimore 

Cooper 20 

828 Prettiest Woman in Wai;^aw, 

The. By Mabel Collins 20 

697 Pretty Jailer, The By F. Du 

Boisgobey. 1st half..*. 20 

697 Pretty Jailer, The. By F. Du 

Boisgobey. 2d half 20 

207 Pretty Miss Neville. By B. M. 
Croker 20 


475 Prima Donna’s Husband, The. 

By F. Du Boisgobey 20 

531 Prime Minister, The. By An- 
thony Trollope. First Half.. 20 
531 Prime Minister, The. By An- 
thony Trollope. Second Half 20 
624 Primus in Indis. By M. J. Col- 

quhoun. . . 10 

249 “ Prince Charlie’s Daughter.” 

By Charlotte M. Braeme, au- 
thor of “ Dora Thorne ” 10 

556 Prince of Darkness, A. By F. 

Warden 20 

859 Prince of the 100 Soups, The. 

Edited by Vernon Lee 20 

704 Prince Otto. R. L. Stevenson. 10 
355 Princess Dagomar of Poland, 
The. Heinrich Felbermann. 10 


537 Piccadilly. Laurence Oliphant 10 
24 Pickwick Papers. By Charles 

Dickens. Vol. 1 20 

24 Pickwick Papers. By Charles 

Dickens. Vol. II 20 

448 Pictures From Italy, and The 
Mudfog Papers, &c. By Chas. 

Dickens 20 

206 Picture, The, and Jack of All 
Trades. By Charles Reade. .. 10 
264 Pi6douche, a French Detective. 

By Fortune Du Boisgobey... 10 
318 Pioneers, The ; or. The Sources 
of the Susquehanna. By J. 

Fenimore Cooper 20 

893 Pirate The. Sir Walter Scott 20 
850 Playwright’s Daughter, A. By 
Mrs. Annie Edwards 10 


228 Princess Napraxine. “Ouida” 20 
23 Princess of Thule, A. By Will- 
iam Black 20 

88 Privateersman, The. By Cap- 
tain Marry at 20 

321 Prodigals, The; And Their In- 
heritance. By Mrs. Oliphant. 10 
944 Professor, The. By Charlotte 

Bront6 20 

144 Promises of Marriage. By 

Emile Gaboriau 10 

260 Proper Pride. By B, M. Croker 10 
947 Publicans and Sinners; or, Lu- 
cius Davoren. By Miss M. E. 

Braddon. First half 20 

947 Publicans and Sinners; or, Lu- 
cius Davoren. By Miss M. E. 
Braddon. Second half. . .... 20 


THE SEASIDE LIBRARY— Pocket Edition. 


15 


1000 Puck. By “ Ouida.” 1st half 
1000 Puck. By “ Ouida.” 2d half 
912 Pure Gold. By Mrs. H. Lovett 

Cameron. First half 

912 Pure Gold. By Mrs. H. Lovett 

Cameron. Second half 

516 Put Asunder ; or, Lady Ca'Sstle- 
maine’s Divorce. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 

“Dora Thorne” 

487 Put to the Test. Edited by 

Miss M. E. Braddon.... 

214 Put Yourself in His Place. By 
Charles Reade 


68 Queen Amongst Women, A. By 
Charlotte M. Braeme, author 

of “Dora Thorne” 

932 Queenie’sWhim. ByRosaNou- 
chette Carey. First half.. .. 
932 Queenie’s VVhim. ByRosaNou- 
cfiette Carey. Second half. . . 
691 Queen of Hearts, The. By Wil- 
kie Collins 


641 Rabbi’s Spell, The. By Stuart 

C. Cumberland 

147 Rachel Ray. By Anthony Trol- 
lope 

^1 Rainbow Gold. By David Chris- 
tie Murray 

183 Rainy June. A. By “ Ouida 
:00 Ralph the Heir. By Anthony 

Trollope. First half 

00 Ralph the Heir. By Anthony 

Trollope. Second half 

815 Ralph Wilton’s Weird. By Mrs. 

Alexander 

442 Ranthorpe. By George Henry 

Lewes 

780 Rare Pale Blargaret. By the au- 
thor of “ What’s His Offence?” 
327 Raymond’s Atonement. (From 
the German of E. Werner.) 

By Christina Tyrrell 

210 Readiana: Comments on Cur- 
rent Events. By Chas. Reade 
768 Red as a Rose is She. By Rhoda 

Brouyrhton 

918 Red Band, The. By F. Du Bois- 

gobey. First half 

918 Red Band, The. By F. Du Bois- 

g:obey. Second half 

381 Red (jardinal, The. By Frances 

Elliot 

1021 Red-Court Farm, The, and The 
Heir to Ashley. By Mrs. 

Henry Wood 

73 Redeemed by Love; or. Love’s 
Victory. By Charlotte M. 
Braeme, author of “Dora 

Thorne ” 

89 Red Eric, The. By R. M. Ballan- 

tyne 

463 Redgau .'’tlet. By Sir Walter 
Scott,. 


580 Red Route, The. By William 

Sime 20 

361 Red Rover, The. A Tale of the 
Sea. By J. Fenimore Cooper 20 
421 Redskins, The; or, Indian and 
Injin. Being the conclusion 
of the Littlepage Manuscripts. 


By J. Fenimore Cooper 20 

427 Remarkable History of Sir 
Thomas Upmore, Bart., M.P., 
The. Formerly known as 
“ Tommy Upmore.” By R. 

D. Blackmore 20 

237 Repented at Leisure. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 
“ Dora Thorne.” (Large type 

edition) 20 

967 Repented at Leisure. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 
“ Dora Thorne ” 10 

740 Rhona. By Mrs. Forrester.... 20 
375 Ride to Khiva, A. By Captain 

Fred Burnaby, of the Royal 

Horse Guards 20 

396 Robert Ord’s Atonement. By 
Rosa Nouchette Carey 20 

976 Robur the Conqueror; or, A 
Trip Round the World in a 
Flying Machine. By Jules 

Verne 20 

816 Rogues and* Vagabonds. By 
George R. Sims, author of 

“’Ostler Joe” 20 

190 Romance of a Black Veil. By 
Charlotte M. Braeme, author 
ot “Dora Thorne” 10 

741 Romance of a Young Girl, The; 

or, The Heiress of Hilldrop. 

By Charlotte M. Braeme 20 

66 Romance of a Poor Y oung Man, 
The. By Octave Feuillet — 10 
139 Romantic Adventures of a 
Milkmaid, The. By Thomas 

Hardy 10 

898 Romeo and Juliet: A Tale of 
Two Young Fools. By Will- 
iam Black 20 

42 Romola. By George Eliot 20 

360 Rones of Sand. ByR. E. Fran- 

cillon 20 

664 Rory O'More. Samuel Lover 20 
103 Rosery Folk, The. By G. Man- 

ville Fenn 10 

670 Rose and the Ring, The. By 
W. M. Thackeray. Illustrated 10 
119 Rose Distill’d, A. By “The 

Duchess” 10 

103 Rose Fleming. By Dora Russell 10 
296 Rose in Thorns, A. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 

“Dora Thorne” 10 

129 Rossmoyne. By “The Duchess” 10 
180 Round the Galley Fire. By W'. 

Clark Russell 10 

566 Royal Highlanders, The; or. 
The Black Watch in Egypt. 

By James Grant. ... 20 

736 Roy and Viola. Mrs. Forrester 20 


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409 Hoy’s Wife. By G. J. Whyte- 

Melville 

489 Rupert Godwin. By Miss M. E. 

Braddon 

457 Russians at the Gates of Herat, 
The. By Charles Marvin . ... 


962 Sabina Zembra. By William 

Black. First half 

962 Sabina Zembra. By William 

Black. Second half 

616 Sacred Nugget, The. By B. L. 

Farjeon 

223 Sailor’s Sweetheart, A. By W. 

Clark Russell 

177 Salem Chapel. Mrs. Oliphant 
795 Sam’s Sweetheart. By Helen 

B. Mathers 

420 Satanstoe; or. The Littlepage 
Manuscripts. By J. Fenimore 

Cooper 

1037 Scheherazade : A London 
Niglit’s Entertainment. By 

Florence Warden 

660 Scottish Chiefs, The. By Miss 

Jane Porter. 1st half 

660 Scottish Chiefs, The. By Miss 

Jane Porter. 2d half 

699 Sculptor’s Daughter, The. By 
F. Du Boisgobey. 1st half . . . 
699 Sculptor’s Daughter, The. By 

F. Du Boisgobey. 2d half 

441 Sea Change, A. By Flora L. 

Shaw 

82 Sealed Lips. F. Du Boisgobey 
423 Sea Lions, The ; or. The Lost 

Sealers. By J. F. Cooper 

35 Sea Queen, A. By W. Clark 

Russell 

490 Second Life, A. By Mrs. Alex- 
ander 

101 Second Thoughts. By Rhoda 

Broughton 

999 Second Wife, The. By E. Mar- 

litt 

781 Secret Dispatch, The. By 

James Grant 

810 Secret of Her Life, The. By Ed- 
ward Jenkins 

JS87 Secret of the Cliffs, The. By 

Cliarlotte French 

607 Self-Doomed. ByB. L. Farjeon 
651 “ Self or Bearer.” By Walter 

Besant 

474 Serapis. By George Ebers 

792 Set in Diamonds. By Charlotte 
M. Braeme, author of ” Dora 

Thorne ”.. 

548 Shadow in the Corner, The. By 

Miss M. E. Braddon 

445 Shadow of a Crime, The. By 

Hall Caine 

293 Shadow of a Sin, The. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 

‘‘Dora Thorne” 

948 Shadow of a Sin, "J'he. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme. (Large type 
^edition)., 


18 Shandon Bells. By Wm. Black 20 
988 Shattered Idol, The, and Letty 
Leigh. By Dharlotte M. 
Braeme, author of ‘‘Dora 

Thorne” 20 

910 She: A History of Adventure. 

By H. Rider Haggard 20 

141 She Loved Himl By Annie 

Thomas 10 

520 She's All the World to Me. By 

Hall Caine 10 

801 She Stoops to Conquer, and 
The Good-Natured Man. By 

Oliver Goldsmith 10 

57 Shirley. By Charlotte Bronte 20 

239 Signa. By‘‘Ouida” 20 

1052 Signa’s Sweetheart. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 

‘‘ Dora^Thorne ” 20 

707 Silas Marner: The Weaver of 
Raveloe. B.y George Eliot. . . 10 
1034 Silence of Dean Maitland, The. 

By Maxwell Gray 20 

913 Silent Shore. The. By John 

Bloundelle- Burton 20 

539 Silvermead. By Jean Middle- 

mas 20 

681 Singer’s Story, A. By May 
Laffan 10 

252 Sinless Secret, A. By ” Rita ” 10 
283 Sin of a Lifetime, The. By 
Charlotte M. Bi'aeme, author 

of “ Dora Thorne ” 10 

515 Sir Jasper’s Tenant. By Miss 

M. E. Braddon 20 

643 Sketch-book of Geoffrey Cray- 
on, Gent, The. By Washing- 
ton Irving 20 

456 Sketches by Boz. Illustrative 
of Every-day Life and Every- 
day People. By Charles Dick- 
ens 20 

601 Slings and Arrows, and other 
Stories. By Hugh Conway, 
author of “ Called Back ”... 10 
491 Society in London. By a For- 
eign Resident 10 

505 Society of London, The. By 

Count Paul Vasili 10 

778 Society’s Verdict. By the au- 
thor of “ My Marriage ” 20 

114 Some of Our Girls. By Mrs. C. 

J. Eiloart 20 

412 Some One Else. B. M. CrokeF^ 
194 “So Near, and Yet So Farl” 

By Alison 10 

880 Son of His Father, The. By 

Mrs. Oliphant 20 

368 Southern Star, The: or. The 
Diamond Land. Jules Verne 20 
926 Springhaven. By R. D. Black- 

more. First half 20 

926 Springhaven. By R. D. Black- 

more. Second half 20 

63 Spy, The. J. Fenimore Cooper 20 
973 Squire’s Darling, The. By 
Charlotte M. Braeme, author 
* of “ Dora Thorne ” 20 


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281 Squire’s Legacy, The. By Mary 

Cecil Hay 20 

817 Stabbed in the Dark. By Mrs. 

E. Lynn Linton 10 

895 Star and a Heart, A. By Flor- 
ence Marry at 10 

158 Starling, The. By Norman 

Macleod, D.D 10 

436 Stella. By Fanny Lewald 20 

802 Stern Chase, A. By Mrs. 

Cashel-Hoey *20 

846 Steven Lawrence.. By Mrs. 

Annie Edwards, 1st half 20 

846 Steven Lawrence. By Mrs. 

Annie Edwards. 2d half 20 

145 “ Storm-Beaten God and The 
Man. By Robert Buchanan. 20 
673 Story of a Sin. By Helen B. 

Mathers 20 

610 Story of Dorothy Grape, Tlie, 
and Other Tales. By Mrs. 

Henry Wood 10 

53 Story of Ida, The. By Fran- 
cesca...,. 10 

50 Strange Ad ventures of a Phae- 
ton, The. Bj^ William Black. 20 


756 Strange Adventures of Captain 


Dangerous, The. By George 

Augustus Sala 20 

686 Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and 
Mr. Hyde. By Robert Louis 

Stevenson 10 

524 Strangers and Pilgrims. By 

Miss M. E. Braddon 20 

83 Strange Story, A. By Sir E. 

Bulwer Lytton 20 

502 Strange Voyage, A. By W. 

Clark Russell 20 

511 Strange World, A. By Miss M. 

E. Braddon 20 

074 Strathmore; or. Wrought by 
His Own Hand. By “ Ouida.” 

First half 20 

974 Strathmore; or, Wrought by 
His Own Hand. By “ Ouida.” 

Second half 20 

418 St. Ronan’s Well. By Sir Wal- 
ter Scott 20 

650 Struck Down. Hawley Smart 10 
467 Struggle for-a Ring, A. Char- 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 

“Dora Thorne” 20 

71 Struggle for Fame, A. By Mrs. 

J. H. Riddell 20 

745 Struggle for Love, A; or. For 
Another’s Sin. By Charlotte 
M. Braeme, author of “ Dora 

Thorne” 20 

964 Struggle for the Right, A; or. 

Tracking the Truth 20 

222 Sun-Maid, The. By Miss Grant 20 
21 Sunrise: A Story of These 

Times. By Wm, Black 20 

250 Sunshine and Roses; or, Di- 
ana’s Discipline. By Charlotte 
M. Braeme, author of “Dora 

Thorne ” 10 

863 Surgeon’s Daughter, The. By 
Sir Walter Scott 10 


Surgeon’s Daughters, The, by 
Mrs. Henry Wood. A Man of 
His Word, by W. E. Norris... 10 
Susan Fielding. By Mrs. Annie 

Edwards , 20 

Sweet Cymbeline. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 

“ Dora Thorne ” . 20 

Sweet is True Love. By “ The 

Duchess ” 10 

Sworn to Silence; or. Aline 
Rodney’s Secret. By Mrs. 
Alex. McVeigh Miller 20 


Taken at the Flood. By Miss 

M. E. Braddon 20 

Tale of the Shore and Ocean, 

A. By Wm. H. G. Kingston . . 20 
Tale of Three Lions. A, and On 
Going Back. By H. Rider Hag- 
gard 20 

Tale of Two Cities, A. By 

Charles Dickens 20 

Talk of the Town, The. By 

James Payn 20 

Terrible Temptation, A. By 

Chas. Reade 20 

Texar’s Vengeance; or. North 
Versus South. By Jules Verne. 

Part 1 20 

Texar’s Vengeance ; or. North 
Versus South. By Jules Verne. 

Part II 20 

Thaddeus of Warsaw. By Miss 

Jane Porter 20 

That Beautiful Lady. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 

“ Dora Thorne ” 20 

That Beautiful Wretch. By 

William Black 20 

“That Last Rehearsal,” and 
Other Stories. By “ The 

Duchess ” 10 

That Other Person. By Mrs. 

Alfred Hunt. First half 20 

That Other Person. By Mrs. 
Alfred Hunt. Second half. .. 20 
That Terrible Man. By W. E. 

Norris 10 

That Winter Night; or. Love’s 
Victory. Robert Buchanan. . 18 
Thicker Than Water. By 

James Payn 20 

Thirlby Hall. By W. E. Norris 20 
13th Hussars, The. By Emile 

Gaboriau.. 20 

Thorn in Her Heart, A. By 
Charlotte M. Braeme, author 

of “ Dora Thorne ” 20 

Thorns and Orange-Blossoms. 

By Charlotte M. Braeme, au- 
thor of “Dora Thorne” 10 

Thousand Francs Reward, A. 

By Emile Gaboriau 20 

Three Brides, The. By Char- 
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995 

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915 

915 

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892 

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184 

1045 

1008 

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775 Three CIerks,The. By Anthony 

Trollope 20 

124 Til ree Feathers. By Wm. Black 20 
55 Three Guardsmen, The. By 

Alexander Dumas 20 

882 Three Sisters; or. Sketches of 
a Hi.srhly Original Family. 

By Elsa D'Esterre-Keeliiig:. . . 10 
789 Through the Lookinjr-Glass, 
and What Alice Found There. 

By Lewis Carroll. With fifty 
illustrations by JohnTenniel. 20 
471 Thrown on the World. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 

“ Dora Thorne ” 20 

833 Ticket No. “ 9672.” By Jules 

Verne. Second half 10 

833 Ticket No. ‘’9672.” By Jules 

Verne. First half 10 

367 Tie and Trick. Hawley Smart 20 
485 Tinted Vapours. J.Maclaren 

C"bban 10 

503 Tinted Venus, The. F. Anste.y. 10 
980 To Call Her Mine. By Walter 

Besant 20 

120 Tom Brown's School Days at 
Rus:by. By Thomas Hughes. 20 
243 Tom Burke of '‘Ours,” By 
Charles Lever. First half... 20 
243 Tom Burke of “Ours.” By 
Charles Lever. Second half. 20 
557 To the Bitter End. By Miss M. 

E. Brad don 20 

879 Touchstone of Peril, The. By 

R. E. Forrest 20 

1050 Tour of the World in 80 Days, 

The, By Jules Verne 20 

888 Treasure Island. Robert Louis 

St'-venson 10 

1017 Ti icotrin. The Story of a Waif 
and Stray. By “ Ouida.” First 
half 20 

1017 Tricotrin. The Story of a Waif 

and Stray. By“Ouida.” Sec- 
ond half 20 

853 True Magdalen, A. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 

“ Dora Thorne ” 20 

945 Trumpet-Major, The. Thomas 

Hardy 20 

846 Tumbledown Farm. By Alan 

Muir 10 

100 20,000 Leagues Under the Seas. 

B.y Jules Verne 20 

75 Twenty Years After. By Alex- 
ander Dumas 20 

714 ’Twixt Love and Duty. By 

Tighe Hopkins 20 

^24 ’Twixt Smile and Tear. Char- 
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“Dora Thorne” 20 

849 Two Admirals, The. A Tale of 
the Sea. By J. Fenimore 

Cooper 20 

807 Two Kisses. By Charlotte M. 
Braeme, author of “ Dora 
Thorne” 10 

1018 Two Marriages. By Miss Mu- 

lock 80, 


784 Two Miss Flemings, The. By 
the author of “ What's His Of- 

ence?”. . 20 

242 Two Orphans, The. By D’En- 

nery 10 

563 Two Sides of the Shield, The. 

By Charlotte M. Yonge 20 

311 Two Years Before the Mast. 

By R. H. Dana, Jr 20 

407 Tylney Hall. By Thomas Hood 20 

983 Uarda. By George Ebers 20 

862 Ugb' Barrington. By “ The 

Duchess.” 10 

137 Uncle Jack. By Walter Besant 10 
541 Uncle Jack. By Walter Besant 10 
930 Uncle Max. By RosaNouchette 

Carey. First half 20 

930 Uncle Max. By Rosa Nouchette 

Carey. Secoini half 20 

152 Uncommercial Traveler, The. 

By Charles Dickens 20 

174 Under a Ban. By Mrs. Lodge 20 
460 Under a Shadow. By CJiar- 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 

“ Dora 'I'horne ” 20 

852 Under Five Lakes; or, The 
Cruise of the “ Destroyer.” 

By M. Quad 20 

276 Under the Lilies and Roses. 

By Florence Marryat (Mrs. 

Francis Lean) 10 

110 Under the Red Flag. By Miss 

M. E. Braddon 10 

1024 Under the Storm; or. Stead- 
fast’s Charge. By Charlotte 

M. Yonge 20 

4 Under Two Flags. By “Ouida” 20 

340 Under Which King? By Comp- 
ton Reade 20 

718 Unfairly Won. By Mrs. Power 

O’Donoghue 20 

634 Unforeseen, The. By Alice 

O’Hanlon 20 

508 Unholy Wish, The. By Mrs. 

Henry Wood 10 

735 Until the Day Breaks. By 

Emily Spender 20 

654 “Us.” AnOld-fasfiioned Story. 

By Mrs. Moles worth 10 

837 Vagabond Heroine, A. By Mrs. 

Annie Edwards 10 

4S2 Vagrant Wife, A. F. Warden 20 

691 Valentine Strange. By David 

Christie Murray 20 

189 Valerie’s Fate. By Mrs. Alex- 
ander 10 

27 Vanity Fair. By William M. 

Thackeray. First half 20 

27 Vanity Fair. By William M. 

Thackeray. Second half 20 

426 Venus’s Doves. By Ida Ash- 
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891 Vera Nevill; or, Poor Wisdom’s 
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716 Victor and Vanquished. By 

Mary Ce.-il Hay 20 

583 Victory Deane. Cecil Griffith 20 
645 Vida s Story. By author of 

“ Guilty Witliont Crime ” 10 

734 Viva. Bv Mrs. Forrester 20 

793 Vivian Grey. By the Rt. Hon. 
Benjamin Disraeli, Earl of 

Beaconsfield. First lialf 20 

793 Vivian Grey. By the Rt. Hon. 
Benjamin Disraeli, Earl of 
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835 Vivian the Beauty. By Mrs. 

Annie Edwards 20 

283 Vivien’s Atonement; or. The 
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204 Vixen. By Miss M. E. Braddon 20 
777 Voyag:es and Travels of Sir 
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659 Waif of the “ Cynthia,” The. 

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621 Wai'den, The. By Anthony 
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266 Water-Babios, The. A Fairy 
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512 Waters of Hercules, The 20 

112 Waters of Marah, The. By 

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359 Water- Witch, The. By J. Feni- 

rnore Cooper 20 

401 Waverley. By Sir Walter Scott 20 
195 “ Way of the World, The.” By 

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415 Ways of the Hour, The. By J. 


S44 “ Wearing of the Green, The.” 

By Basil 20 

943 Weavers and Weft; or, Love 
That Hath Us in His Net.” 

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961 Wee Wifie. By Rosa N. Carey 20 
312 WeGkin Killarney, A. By “The 

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458 Week of Passion, A; or. The 
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Jenkins 20 

79 Wedded and Parted. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 

“Dora Thorne” 10 

628 Wedded Hands. By the author 
of “ My Lady’s FoUy ” 20 


400 Wept of Wish-Ton-Wish, The. 

Bv J Feniniore Cooper 20 

637 What’s His Offence? By author 
of “ Tiie 'I’wo Miss Flemings ” 20 
722 What’s Mine’s Mine. George 

Macdonald 20 

679 Where Two Ways Meet. By 

Sarah Doudney 10 

220 Which Loved Him Best? By 
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236 Which Shall It Be? By Mrs. 

Alexander 20 

627 White Heather. ByWm. Black 20 
70 White Wings: A Yachting Ro- 
mance. By William Black . . 10 
335 AVhite Witch, The. A Novel.. 20 
939 Why Not? Florence Marryat. 20 
849 Wicked Girl, A. By Mary Cecil 


38' Widow Lerouge, The. By Emile 

Gaboriau 20 

76 Wife in Name Only; or, A Bro- 
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Thorne ” . 20 

254 Wife’s Secret, The, and Fair 
but False. By Charlotte M. 
Brae Tie, author of “Dora 

Thorne” 10 

323 Willful Maid, A. By Charlotte 
M. Braetne, author of “ Dora 

Thorne” 20 

908 Willful Young Woman, A 20 

761 Will Weatlierhelm. By Wm. 

H. G. Kingston 20 

373 Wing-and-Wing. By J. Feni- 

more Cooper 20 

163 Winifred Power. By Joyce Dar- 
rell 20 

472 Wise Women of Inverness, 

The. By Wm. Black 10 

134 Witcliing Hour, The, and Other 
Stories. By “ The Duchess ”. 10 
432 Witch’s Head, The. By H. 

Rider Haggard 20 

872 With Cupid’s Eyes. By Flor- 
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20 Within an Inch of His Life. 

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358 within the Clasp. By J. Ber- 
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809 Witness My Hand. By the au- 
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Tryst” 10 

957 Woodlanders, The. By Thomas 

Hardy 20 

98 Woman-Hater, A. By Charles 

Reade 20 

705 Woman I Loved, The, and the 
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701 Woman in White, The. Wilkie 
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1109 Through the Long Nights. By 

Mrs. E. Lynn Linton. First 


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1110 The Silverado Squatters. By 

Robert Louis Stevenson 10 

1111 In the Counselor’s House. By 

E. Marlitt 20 

1112 Only a Word. By George 

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1113 The Bailiff’s Maid. By E. Mar- 

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1115 The Countess Gisela. By E. 

Marlitt 20 

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phry Ward. 1st half 20 

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phry Ward. 2d half 20 

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1131 Thelma. By Marie Corelli. 

Second half 20 

1132 In Far Lochaber. By William 

Black 20 

1133 Our New Mistress; or, Changes 

at Brookfield Earl. By Char- 
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half 20 


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